


Alone with You

by totheendoftheworldortime79



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:16:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totheendoftheworldortime79/pseuds/totheendoftheworldortime79
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Swan Modern AU. Star investigative journalist Emma Swan needs nothing and no one. What happens when she meets her new boss's brother, Killian Jones?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_What the hell are you doing, Swan?_ Emma asked herself as she swept her hair up into artful ponytail. 

Her new boss, Liam Jones, had sent out a memo that the entire staff was to come to a little party as a “getting to know you” gesture. She didn't know if that was how things worked in dear old Londontown, but here in New York? It was probably one of the most ridiculous things she'd ever heard. And she, Emma Swan, star investigative reporter for the  _Times,_ had no time for management's meddling. Her editor was already on her ass about the Mills investigation; she was  _busy._

But clearly her rich foreign boss didn't care. He'd bought the paper six months ago and was just now taking the time to inspect his investment. Even worse, the limey bastard's kid brother managed to wrangle a job as a photo stringer and had promptly used his good looks, accent and charm to sleep his way through half the intern pool.

Or so the stories went.

Emma had caught a glimpse of the infamous Killian Jones not long after he started at the paper, swaggering through the corridors like he owned the place. To her intense dislike, they found themselves in the same elevator where he hadn't hesitated to flirt with her. She brushed him off like the bug he was, but the moron wasn't deterred. He always had a cheerful word or innuendo for her whenever they crossed paths—which thankfully wasn't often—but her damn subconscious seemed to have latched onto his dark features and too blue eyes and large hands. It would have been embarrassing to admit just how much he'd invaded her dreams, more often than not waking her with a feeling of _wanting._

God, she really needed to get laid. That's all it was. She was better than indulging in fantasies about stupid Englishmen not worth her notice or time. She was an independent confident kickass reporter who could have her pick of men if she wasn't so damn busy doing her _job._

Speaking of her job, she planned on giving this “party” an absolute minimum of her attention—go in make nice and get out—then go back to her corner office and see if her contact at Mills Consolidated had any new information for her. Then she'd go to her favorite bar and see what she could find. She really needed to take the edge off her tension. One and done, that was her motto.

Hair in place, make up done, flowing red dress arranged to reveal just the _right_ amount of skin, Emma grabbed her small purse and snagged a taxi to the _Times_ offices. No one drove in New York. Emma knew how; in fact, she had a vintage yellow Bug in her building's garage. But she never drove it. It served as a reminder of what happened when you trusted people.

Nothing good. Which is why she was damn good at her job. She trusted no one and dug until she uncovered the truth.

When she arrived, Emma flashed her ID badge at the night guard, smiling to herself as the man's eyes widened in appreciation for her efforts. She sauntered away, giving her hips just a little extra sway just because she could. Her dry spell would definitely be ending tonight.

The party was in full swing when the doors opened to the top floor. Staffers of all kinds milled about, drinks in hand, waiting for the mysterious Liam Jones to arrive. Emma grabbed a glass of champagne as she passed one of the waiters, looking around for someone she knew.

“Swan!”

Emma groaned inwardly. It was her editor, aka the bane of her existence, David Nolan. Plastering on her best smile she turned around. “David!” she said with false cheeriness. “I'm impressed you managed to pry yourself away from your desk for this little shindig.”

David harrumphed. “The wife is forcing me to be here. Trust me, I've got far better things to do, as do you.”

“I'm not staying long. I've got a few calls to make on the Mills situation. As soon as I shake the bastard's hand, I'm out of here.”

“Ah, the advantage of not being married.”

Emma chuckled. David loved to grouse, but he adored his petite dark haired wife, Mary Margaret. There were times Emma was almost envious of them. “Speaking of, where is Mrs. Nolan?”

“Here! Oh, Emma, you look _wonderful_ ,” Mary Margaret said, hurrying over with two glasses of champagne. She handed one to her husband, who smiled fondly down at her. Emma tried not to fidget, embarrassed by the obvious affection between the two. “Did you bring a date?”

“Why would I do that?”

Mary Margaret's face fell. “But you're so _pretty...”_

“I appreciate that, Mary Margaret, but you're not exactly my mother.” She felt her heart twist, the pain unwanted. No, Emma was single by choice. She had her career, a nice apartment and she wasn't exactly lacking in the sex department (her current dry spell notwithstanding, she was just really _really_ busy, thank you very much). She didn't _need_ anything else.

Emma extricated herself and moved on, chatting to various coworkers. Usually, she was so absorbed in her work that she didn't have much time to socialize. And when she did, Emma would be the first to admit that she had an _abrasive_ personality. One of the few people who could stand her was Ruby Lucas, one of the paper's culture reporters.

“Emma! There you are!” Ruby exclaimed, extricating herself from what appeared to be a boring conversation. The brunette was gorgeous in a dark green dress that showed off her cleavage. Typical. Still, Emma liked her.

“Any sign of their highnesses yet?”

Ruby laughed. “No,” she replied, disappointed. “This party could use the eye candy though. Why are so many reporters so average looking?”

“Don't tell me _you've_ succumbed to English fever too? I thought you were dating Whale!”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “I _am,_ silly. That doesn't mean I don't have _eyes_. And those Jones boys are seriously hot.”

“I've never seen the older one,” Emma admitted. “Not in person anyway. The younger one's an ass.”

“You mean he's got a _fine_ ass,” Ruby retorted. “I don't know what they have in the water over there, but damn girl.”

“You're hopeless.”

“And you work too hard. When was the last time you had any?”

Emma looked around in horror. “Ruby! You wanna keep it down?!”

“What? Everyone already knows you're the Ice Queen, dear.”

“ _The_ _Ice Queen?!”_

Ruby finished off her glass of champagne and grabbed another as the waiter passed. “Please. You're rude to almost everyone, you're a workaholic, you never have a date. The ship has already sailed.”

“I'm doing my job,” Emma gritted out. “And I like it!”

“Yes, you're an amazing reporter, Emma. But is that _really_ all you want out of life?”

Emma had no snappy comeback for that. She was happy. She was. Well, content at least. Feelings and relationships just muddled things; she didn't want that. Did she? She remembered the yellow Bug. No, not after Neal. She couldn't go through that again.

She and Ruby made the rounds, Ruby doing most of the talking while Emma just bided her time until she could get out of there. She kept looking around, getting more and more annoyed waiting for her boss to show up. Where the hell was he? Were people not punctual in England? What if she had plans?

_You never have plans,_ a voice in her head reminded her.  _Shut up,_ she snarked back at herself.

“Looking for someone, love?”

Emma groaned. Of all the people she did  _not_ want to see... “Go away, Jones.”

“Is that any way to treat a coworker, Swan?”

Emma rounded on him. “We're not coworkers. We work in completely different departments.”  _And I had to earn my job,_ she added in her head. Still, she wasn't  _that_ petty. Yet.

“And you are avoiding my question.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I'm hoping that brother of yours gets here soon so I can get back to work.”

“It's a Friday night, Swan. Surely, your work can wait.”

“Maybe that's how it is for a _stringer_ , but some of us do actual reporting, buddy.”

There was a flash of _...something_ in his eyes, but it was gone so fast, Emma was sure she imagined it.  _“All_ the more reason you should take time to  _enjoy_ life, love. Surely  _that's_ not illegal?”

“I enjoy things.” Honestly, she didn't even know why she was still talking to him. And she absolutely was not enjoying the lilt of his accent. Nope. Next question.

“Name one.”

“I don't have to answer to you, Jones.”

“No, but you're still here.”

Emma blinked at him, surprised he would call her out like that, but secretly  _liking_ it. He didn't treat her like the Ice Queen. “I like the satisfaction of doing my job well. Or making the police chief squirm with a pointed question. Or finding some deep dark secret that brings down a corporation.”

“Those are work things, love. What about _life_?”

“Why do you even care?”

Killian shrugged casually. “Just trying to get a sense of you, Swan.”

Emma almost laughed. “You think you actually have a chance here?”

He smirked. “Oh, I  _always_ have a chance, darling.”

Emma scowled. “Yes, as I'm sure the interns can attest.” Of course the pretty boy was like everyone else. At least she knew now. She started to walk away, done with this idiotic conversation.

But she stopped abruptly when she felt his hand on her arm, gentle but steely. “You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Swan.”

Emma turned, looking into his blue eyes and swallowing involuntarily.  _When did they get so blue?_ “Like what?”

“Did you know that Gold didn't know who I was when he hired me?”

“What? How?” She could tell he was telling the truth. Her little lie detecting skill came in handy in her line of work.

“He interviewed me over the phone and I put a fake name on my resume and portfolio. I got this job fair and square.”

“Why?”

“To prove to myself that I didn't need my brother to make my way for me.”

“But you're rich. Why work at all?”

“My _brother_ is rich, love. I could live off him, but where's the fun in that?”

Against her better judgment, Emma was intrigued. A guy who turned down a chance to coast through life and actually  _wanted_ to work? That was a new one. She let Killian get her a drink. They sat on one of the cushy chairs making small talk. Well, mostly he talked, while Emma listened to stories of his days at university, as they called it in England. To her surprise, he was actually funny. Emma felt her phone vibrate and discreetly checked the text from her contact, letting her know that there wouldn't be any late night note taking as he didn't have the information she needed. She should have been disappointed, but for the first time in a long time she was actually having  _fun._

“Care to dance, love?”

Emma looked at him, askance. “There's no one dancing.”

“So?”

There _was_ music being piped in from somewhere. But it didn't seem like a dancing thing. “I'm not dancing with you, Jones.”

“Afraid?”

“What?”

“I asked if you were afraid. Or perhaps you don't dance?”

“I can dance!” Ugh, just when she was starting to _like_ him. Wait. What?

“Live a little, Swan.”

“Fine.” _Please be a terrible dancer._

No such luck. In fact, the insufferable bastard was a terrific dancer. As soon as other people saw them, more couples joined in. Ruby flashed Emma the thumbs up while she danced with her boyfriend Victor, one of the paper's medical reporters. Worse, the feel of Killian's hands on her body was doing things to her. He held her far closer than people of their limited acquaintance should, his hand burning the exposed skin of her lower back. She tried not to look at him, or make it seem like she was unaffected, but she was failing.

“You're so beautiful,” Killian rumbled softly in her ear. “I've had my eye on you for some time, love.”

Emma frowned. “You have?”

“Aye. Does that surprise you?”

“Well, I'm apparently known as the Ice Queen.”

Killian chuckled. “Hardly.” He spun her gracefully away from him, then captured her in his strong arms. “You're just careful.”

“How do you know that?” Her breathing was getting shallow, alarm bells going off in her head. This was _not_ good.

“Perhaps you're not the only one who's been hurt.”

He said it with such understanding, such warmth, it made her heart clench. And that's when she knew she had to get out of there. Boss or no, she had to leave. Right now. Without a word, Emma tore herself from his arms and turned away, walking briskly from the room. She heard the whispers as she passed but she paid them no heed. She also heard Killian calling after her but she ignored him too.

“Emma! Swan, would you just wait?”

“Take a hint, Jones. Those sad baby blues may work on the interns, but they won't work on me.”

“Why are you so obsessed with those bloody interns?”

Emma turned; they were just outside a supply closet, halfway to the elevators. “Because I know your type. Your pretty face gets you whatever or whomever you want. You just saunter through life getting people's hopes up, then leave before things get complicated.”

He looked like she'd slapped him. “You don't know anything about me, Swan. And for the record, I haven't slept with _anyone_ in this office. Unlike some people, I want more from life than assignations with random women,” he spat. His nostrils flared with anger, his bright blue eyes hurt. “But if that's enough for you, then _fine.”_ He turned and walked away, his footsteps angry.

_Don't let him walk away_ . She hated being wrong.  _Was_ she wrong? Her head warred with her gut for a long moment. Before she knew it, her feet were moving, chasing after him in those ridiculous heels. “Jones! Killian!”

“What?”

Emma, for the first time in years, just stopped thinking. She slid her hands up over the lapels of his blazer, pulling him in for a kiss.

Sweet mother of god could he _kiss._ His shock at her about face only lasted for a heartbeat before he was kissing her back hard, mouth opening, tongue slipping into her mouth. It was like fire, burning her from the inside out. She moaned, pulling him closer, nipping at his bottom lip sharply. Killian growled in response, arms going around her waist and pulling her flush against his body. The kiss deepened, becoming more sensual but no less passionate. Emma hadn't felt like this in so long; it made her dizzy and breathless with a growing ache between her thighs.

“Jesus,” she whispered, finally needing to come up for air.

“It's Killian, Swan.” His lips hardly paused, latching onto her throat, tongue licking her racing pulse. Emma's eyes fluttered, heat pooling in her stomach. But they were still out in a very public hallway. Knowing that if she paused, she would overthink it, Emma pulled him back toward the supply closet they'd passed earlier.

Once they were inside, she pressed him against the door, capturing those sweet kiss swollen lips. She managed to slide his blazer off, before he stopped her hands. “Love...”

Emma shook her head. “Don't think,” she said softly. “Just feel.” She wanted to know if her dreams matched the reality, just once.

“Bloody siren, you are,” Killian replied, hands sliding over her back. She could see the surrender in his eyes, the attraction between them too strong to fight. He pulled her in for another kiss, this one fiery and demanding, everything Emma craved. She went back to his clothes, fingers fumbling with his vest and shirt.

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that awaited her. His clothes hid a toned, lean physique; his chest was covered in soft dark hair. Emma felt an overwhelming desire to lick him from head to foot, her tongue mapping out all the dips and ridges of his muscles. But there was no time.

“See something you like?”

Emma ran her hands over his chest, the skin warm under her touch. “I've seen better.” It was a bald faced lie, but he didn't need to know that.

His eyes darkened. “Oh, you'll pay for that, Swan.” He grabbed her by the hips and spun them around so that her back was against the door. His lips attacked her skin, sliding over her collar as his hand reached up and untied the top of her dress. The fabric fell, pooling at her waist, his hand already kneading her breast. Emma bit back a moan, his touch electric as he thumbed her nipples into hardness. She arched into him, mindless want soaking her panties.

“So bloody gorgeous,” Killian murmured against her skin. He kissed the tops of her breasts, his scruff scratching her pale skin, making her shiver. She was feeling so many things at once, her mind couldn't even keep up. She could only react. Any other time she would be embarrassed by the way she gasped and moaned, but it felt too damn amazing for her to care. Killian sucked one of her rosy nipples into his mouth, laving the taut peak with his tongue and teeth until she was whimpering with need.

Emma yanked sharply on his hair; he released her with a loud pop. She crushed her lips to his, nails scratching down his chest, trying desperately to gather the threads of her control. This was just sex; wasn't it?

Killian growled again—a sound that went straight to Emma's clit, making it throb painfully—and rutted his hips into hers. The thick ridge of his erection pressed into her stomach and she moaned softly.

“So the Queen likes it rough, eh?” Killian whispered, his voice dark and rough. “Very well, lass.” He rubbed his nose along her cheek, his breath hot on her skin before he pulled away abruptly and pushed her over to one of the metal shelving units. He pressed her against it, her aching breasts sliding over the cold metal. She wondered what he was doing until she heard the tell tale sound of a lowered zip and a rip of foil. Then he was there, chest to her back, voice in her ear.

“Last chance to back out, Swan.”

The thought of _not_ knowing how he felt inside her was almost too much for her to process. She _needed_ this. “Not a chance.”

Killian chuckled approvingly, nipping at her earlobe. Then he dragged a box over to where she stood there practically quivering with need. “Foot on the box, Swan.”

She did as he bid, putting her left heeled foot on the box, which spread her legs to the cool air of the room. Killian rucked the back of her dress up, hands gliding over her thighs and the cheeks of her ass, kneading and squeezing. The feel of his hands on her drove her crazy, sparks flitting over her skin, making her whimper. She gasped when his fingers brushed her sex, her own fingers tightening on the metal shelving.

“Fuck, you are bloody _soaked_. I always knew you'd be hot for me.” He pulled back on her hips, her back arching to accommodate him. Then he was there, sliding into her heat, her walls stretching to take him in. God, he was _big,_ bigger than she'd imagined, but she loved the burn. He wasted no time, taking her with hard deep strokes, one hand on her hip and the other sliding up her ribs. The shelves rattled with every plunge of his cock inside her, the only sound aside from Killian's pants and Emma's mewls of pleasure.

“Feels so _fucking_ good,” Killian mumbled, punctuating his words with a deep thrust. “So bloody tight.”

“Oh fuck.” Emma pushed her hips back against his, needing _more._ She'd never felt desire quite like this before, like a pit of quicksand that she never wanted to get out of. Killian slid his hand further up her body, curling around her throat.

“Shhh,” he whispered, pressing ever so slightly on her airway. “Wouldn't want to get caught like this, Swan.”

Her vision blurred; she could feel herself getting wetter, turned on by everything he was doing to her. He slid in and out of her even faster, hard slaps of flesh that completely belied the dictate to not get caught. Killian slid his other hand around to her clit, lightly circling the hard nub, making her jerk in his hold. _Oh god._

“ _More,”_ she gasped, knuckles white in the metal. “Fuck.” She felt wanton, debauched and good god, she wanted more. She wanted to feel everything about this.

Killian's hips snapped hard against hers, his fingers slipping against her wet cleft, before finding a rhythm that had her shuddering. The pressure built and built, his other hand tightening just a fraction. His control was astounding, giving her exactly what she wanted, _needed._ She was incoherent, wordless sounds spilling from her lips. Emma bit down on her arm when her climax _finally_ crashed over her, stifling her screams of pleasure. She heard Killian grunt behind her, his hips stuttering now, burying her his head against her sweat slicked back to muffle his own cry as he pulsed deep inside her. He rutted against her until they were both exhausted; Emma was shaking, only Killian's arms around her holding her up.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that; it was long after her breathing had returned to normal. Her skin still tingled wherever he touched her. When she felt his lips brush gently against her shoulder, she knew that the spell would have to be broken. It was the only way. Tenderness had no place here.

Emma gave him a little push and he straightened. She didn't look at him as he shed the condom and tied it off, throwing it into one of the large trash cans. No one would see it there. Emma busied herself with rearranging her dress, trying to make it look like she _hadn't_ been fucked within an inch of her life.

But oh god, how she had.

The inside of her thighs ached; there was beard burn on her pale skin. Her skin still buzzed and she knew she would feel this tomorrow.

Emma inhaled sharply when Killian stepped up behind her and deftly retied the straps of her dress. She tried to ignore the way she shivered when his fingertips brushed her skin.

“Time to run then?” Killian said softly; there was no accusation in his tone, merely resignation.

Emma stepped away, needing to put some distance between them. “If you knew me, you'd know why. I'm sorry.” It was the first time she found herself feeling regret about the way she lived her life. But it was all she knew. She grabbed her purse from the floor and headed for the door.

“I could though.”

“Why would you even want to try? I'm the Ice Queen, remember?”

Killian stepped closer, within arm's reach. But he didn't make a move to touch her. He _did_ look into her eyes, however. “I think we both know that's not true, Swan.”

He couldn't mean it. No one did. That was the way her life went. But perhaps...in this case...a tiny shred of hope was actually letting him down easy? By morning, they'd both recognize this for what it really was, just two people letting off some steam. What the hell? “Dinner. Tomorrow night. Eight o'clock.” Then she turned the knob and exited the room.

She was halfway down the hall when the door opened again. “I don't even know where you live!” he called.

Emma found herself smiling. She looked over her shoulder; his clothes were still disheveled and his hair was a mess. “You're a journalist, Jones. Figure it out.”

He'd never show. It was too much work. It always was.

But at least she had a nice memory. That was definitely a change.

* * *

So confident was she that Killian _wouldn't_ show, she didn't even bother to change her clothes after work. Instead, Emma came home and kicked off her shoes, intending to order some Chinese and take another stab at drafting her article. She didn't have nearly enough verified sources to publish yet, but collating her thoughts helped her relax.

When there was a knock on her door at 7:55, she didn't even think twice. She opened the door, fishing in her purse for a twenty. It wasn't until she locked gazes with those bright blue eyes that she realized what was happening.

“Oh.” _Shit shit shit!_

“You were expecting someone else?”

_Lie, Swan._ “Nope.”

“Liar.” Instead of being angry or annoyed, Killian merely grinned. “I caught the delivery boy downstairs, offered to bring it with me since we were headed to the same place.”

“How did you find out where I lived?” she blurted out. She really should have stepped back and let him in, but she was too floored to move.

“Well, Swan,” he began, leaning in conspiratorially. “Your friend Miss Lucas can be quite chatty.”

_I am going to kill Ruby._ “You could have just looked it up in the company database.”

“True, but I doubt that those horribly _im_ personal files could have told me about these.” He brought his other hand out from behind his back; it was holding a slightly crushed bag from her favorite bakery.

“Are those...?”

“The pastry you Yanks refer to as bear claws? Aye.”

Bear claws were her guilty pleasure, something left over from her time in the foster system. But no one knew about that, not even Ruby. The foster system part, not the bear claw part. Emma could feel her resolve crumbling under Killian's earnest, hopeful gaze. “Alright. Come on in.” She stepped back and let him in.

She went to clear off her work from the small table in her breakfast nook, carefully locking her laptop. There was too much valuable information on it.

“You were working?” Killian asked, following her into the kitchen. “Have you so little faith, love?”

“Well, you know what they say. If it walks like a duck...”

Killian huffed. “We're going to have work on that pessimism, I see. Fortunately, I love a challenge.”

“I bet you do.”

They sat at her tiny table after Emma fetched them some wine and plates. She didn't offer to give him a tour of her place or give him any signs that this was anything more than a one time thing. Every once in a while his leg would brush hers, she'd feel that lance of desire shoot through her, the same one that had captured her the night before. As he talked, Emma found herself focusing on the little things, the way he held his chopsticks, the way his lips curved when he smiled, the way his hair fell across his forehead. The muscles of his shoulders flexed under his shirt, today unimpeded by a waistcoat.

There was no way around it. He was gorgeous. And now having had a taste of him, Emma found that she craved more. Wanted to see just what else he could do to her. Just what else she could do to him. She hadn't even gotten to properly see him the night before, but god, she had  _felt_ him. Her panties were wet just thinking about the forceful way he had taken her.

But she couldn't take advantage of him like that. He'd all but  _told_ her he wanted more than just a romp. He wanted something she couldn't give. She should absolutely send him away. He'd get over it, realize that he deserved better than the Ice Queen.

Then she was wiping some powdered sugar off his lower lip with her thumb, which he promptly sucked into his mouth, a devilish gleam in his eye. Emma only hesitated for a moment, before climbing into his lap and kissing him senseless.

He wound up getting the penny tour of her apartment after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small note: I only know the barest bones about journalism (I was a history major), so while I've tried to keep that somewhat realistic, I'm probably taking some dramatic license and such. Story's not really about that; It's about Killian and Emma. So hopefully, I'll be forgiven if things don't exactly line up.

He was late.

Liam had called—actually called not merely sent a text—asking Killian to stop by his top floor office for lunch. They hadn't seen much of each other since Liam's arrival in the city, both having their own lives. Once upon a time, they'd been close, but ever since their mother had passed and left her fortune to Liam, they'd slowly drifted apart. And while Liam had offered to help Killian in any way he could—pay for university, buy his equipment—Killian had brushed it off. He wanted to earn his way; he was stubborn like that.

Now Liam was his boss. Fortunately, Killian was too far down the totem pole to actually have to work with his bullheaded brother on a daily basis. He pitied those who did. Still, Killian was well aware of the whispers, that he'd only gotten his job as the Times newest photo stringer because he was related to the owner. The truth was he'd gotten this job because he was damn fine photographer and took chances other people wouldn't to get the photo he needed.

He was good and he knew it. He didn't have to disabuse anyone else of the notion that he got his job via nepotism. They wanted to think that, then fine.

Everyone except Emma anyway.

For some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on, he found himself telling her the truth. The idea that she didn't think well of him rubbed him the wrong way. Even if she was by far the most infuriating lass he'd ever met. It was probably why he couldn't help himself when she was around. She was beautiful, intelligent, confident, eviscerating the wicked with her prose. He'd been smitten from the moment he'd seen her in the elevator right after he'd started at the paper. And now...

Now...half the time he didn't know which way was up. Their encounter at the staff party completely turned his life upside down. He knew her reputation. He'd witnessed the Ice Queen persona first hand for months. But he could sense that there was more to her; that the Ice Queen was a mask for someone who'd been very hurt. Killian knew that because he was the same, swaggering around because it kept people away. It had been over ten years and Killian still wondered what might have been.

He'd been young and foolish. Barely nineteen years old and getting involved with a married woman a decade older than him. His mates tried to tell him, but Killian had been too blinded by love to listen. When Milah told him she was going back to her husband, that she'd had fun, Killian was devastated. On her way home that night, Milah's car broke down on the side of the road and an asleep at the wheel lorry driver struck her little car, killing her instantly. Killian couldn't even got to her funeral, since he was her dirty little secret.

It wasn't long after that that his own mother had passed.

It was only with Liam's support that he hadn't crumbled completely. But once Killian got his feet under him, he decided to forge his way one his own, which had ultimately led him here. He still wasn't sure how he felt about that.

The elevator opened and Killian stepped out. “Hold that door!” an all too familiar voice called.

Killian raised a curious brow as Emma came tearing across the small reception area, as fast as those heels could carry her. What was she doing up here? Was she talking to Liam? It was most curious. She only gave him the briefest of nods and her super secret one corner smile before breezing into the elevator. He was debating whether or not to ask when she mouthed “later” just as the doors closed. What was that about?

Shrugging, Killian headed for Liam's office, waving at his brother's pretty blonde assistant as he passed. He knocked briefly on the closed office door and opened it, not waiting for his brother's reply.

“Killian! There you are. I was starting to think you'd gotten lost!”

“You work on the top floor, you ponce. What's to forget?”

Liam grinned. “Actually, it's probably good that you are late. I just had a terrible meeting.”

“With whom?” he asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

“Emma Swan. She's a prickly lass, isn't she? Damn near bit my head off!”

Stay calm, Jones. No one knew about he and Emma. And strictly speaking, Killian wasn't even sure there was a “he and Emma” for people to know about. They were sleeping together, yes, but that was the only thing you could say. They didn't go out for meals. They didn't go to the movies or the theater. Hell, she wouldn't even let him buy her flowers. They had minimum interaction at work. That moment at the elevator was the first time he'd seen her with all her clothes on in two weeks. Usually, she'd call, he'd take a cab to her apartment and they'd have quite possibly the best sex of his entire life until they were exhausted.

Time and again he'd swear to himself that he would end...whatever it was. He wanted so much more than just casual sex (even though he knew she wasn't having sex with anyone else and neither was he). But whenever he tried to muster his determination, he'd catch her smiling softly at him when she thought he couldn't see. Or they'd lay in her bed watching some terrible B movie between rounds and she'd stroke his hair or nuzzle his neck. Once or twice, she'd even jumped into his arms in fright at some horror movie they were watching. Emma may not want to acknowledge it, but she felt something for him, something beyond just simple lust.

Her walls were so high, Killian wasn't sure she even knew how to peak over them. But he wanted to help her try so very badly.

So he stayed and carried on their...relationship under whatever terms she set. It was the first real happiness he'd felt in a long time, even if it wasn't perfect.

“Killian? Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry, what?”

Liam looked annoyed. “I asked if you'd met Miss Swan.”

“Yeah, we pass each other on the elevator sometimes.”

“Claws like a tiger on that one. Still, she's a hell of a reporter, if stubborn.”

“Stubbornness is a trait you should be familiar with, brother.”

Liam huffed. “Be that as it may, I actually did not bring you up here to talk business.”

“You didn't?”

“Can I not invite my little brother for lunch?”

“Younger brother,” Killian mumbled. Then clearer, “I'm just surprised you had time in your schedule. I've barely seen you since you got Stateside.”

Liam looked a bit uncomfortable. “I've been...busy,” he said, scratching behind his ear. “Getting to know how things run around here and such. You're settling in well, I trust?”

Killian could tell there was more to it. That scratching was a nervous tic both Jones boys had; they did it when they were uncomfortable with something. But since he wasn't the only one in the room keeping a secret, he let it go. “Yeah, everything's great. Gold's a crotchety one though.”

“Yes, he can be...cantankerous. I've already had one run in with him. He had a good word for you though.”

“How wonderful,” Killian snarked.

“Come, let's eat, I'm starved.” The brothers headed for medium sized glass table over the windows; it was set up with a small spread from one of the local delis. Despite being from England, Killian had quite taken to American food; he put together a cold cut and salami sandwich, piled high with veggies. Emma would be proud.

“So,” Liam asked as they sat across from each other. “How are things outside the office? Any one I should know about?”

Killian swallowed, trying to keep his face impassive. “Nope. Still getting used to living in the city.”

“It's an adjustment, that's for sure.” They spent the rest of their lunch comparing London to New York, grousing about Americans obsession with coffee and avoiding the proverbial elephant in the room. Just like old times.

* * *

 When he got back to his cubicle, Killian was annoyed that he'd missed a call. He knew the number instantly; Emma left him a message. She rarely called during work hours, discretion of the utmost importance.

“Meet me at the Enchanted in Queens. Eight o'clock. Oh and wear that dark blue shirt. You know the one.”

Killian looked down at his phone, brow knitting in confusion. She wanted to meet him? In public? Didn't that go against every rule she had? Although, the place was in Queens so the likelihood that they would see someone they knew was next to nil. He didn't know how he felt about that. It hurt that she seemed to want to keep them a secret.

Killian googled the place she had given him; it seemed to be a bar, a bar with a house band. Just a little hole in the wall that most people wouldn't look twice at. He scribbled down the address and got on with his day.

After returning home, showering and changing into his blue shirt as requested, Killian ordered a cab to take him to Queens. He was afraid he was going to be late—traffic over the river was a nightmare—but he made it with a couple of minutes to spare. He didn't want to ruin this tentative positive step their first time out.

Emma was already there, sitting at one of the small tables, wearing a stunning black flower print dress with three quarter length sleeves. He was fairly certain that standing the dress would only come down to mid thigh, as it was hiked up so much as she sat, leaving her thighs exposed to his hungry gaze. Her long golden hair was flowed over her shoulders and down her back in artful waves. She was so gorgeous it made his chest hurt.

“Hey,” she said softly when she saw him. She looked him up and down with those jade eyes and smiled approvingly. “You remembered.”

Killian took a seat in the chair next to her. “Of course I did, love. A man's not likely to forget the way you pounced the last time I wore it.”

“I did not pounce,” she hissed indignantly.

“You keep telling yourself that, Swan.” Indeed, whenever they were together, she could hardly keep her hands off him. Not that he was complaining. The physical part of their relationship was amazing. It was the rest that was a struggle.

“Have you always been this insufferable?”

“You bring it out in me.” He picked up her hand and brought it to his lips, gently brushing the back of her knuckles. “You should be honored.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but she didn't pull her hand away. Killian took that as a good sign. “Yes, dripping with honor over here, Jones.”

“You dripping is indeed on the menu for tonight, Swan.” The truth was he was just as addicted to the sex as she was. How could he not be with the way her lithe gorgeous body looked above him, or the sight of her talented mouth wrapped around his cock? They just connected on so many levels; he just wished she could see it the way he did. But he could be patient. She was worth it.

Emma shivered, her eyes widening slightly. “Sure of yourself, are you?” she asked, her voice was low and husky.

“With you, love? Always.” He reached down and pulled the bottom of her chair toward him until they were hip to hip. Killian cupped her cheek and coaxed her toward him, brushing his nose over her cheek before kissing her softly. She tasted of cinnamon and chocolate, dark and decadent, and she sighed into his kiss, her hand on his leg. “See?” he murmured, leaning his forehead against hers.

“How'd you get so good at that?”

Killian chuckled. “Is that a compliment I hear, Swan?”

She pushed lightly on his shoulder. “Don't make me ask again.”

“Only if you answer one for me.”

She pulled back a little, a momentary panic in her eyes. But he didn't give up, his fingers gently soothing along her arm. He wanted her to know she could trust him. “Okay.”

They ordered their drinks—and to Killian's surprise a meal—while he contemplated how to answer her question. He toyed with her hand under the table, curling his fingers around hers just feeling her warmth. She liked to call herself the Ice Queen, but she was so, so warm. Warm and alive but she kept it hidden. He could only imagine the why. It must have been a great hurt, and his heart broke for her.

“I didn't really...date before university,” he said quietly, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

Emma frowned, confused. “Why do I have a hard time believing that?”

Killian shrugged. “I was quite serious, I assure you. Focused on my studies. Liam was the athlete, the popular one.”

“That I can believe.”

“Aye, well, I certainly caught my fair share of hell for it.” He laughed, remembering. “But my second year of university, things changed.”

“Who was she?”

Killian stared into his tumbler of rum, avoiding her eyes. “Her name was Milah. She was...married. Older than me. But she was beautiful. I thought she loved me.”

“Thought, past tense.” It was a statement, not a question. But her voice was gentle.

Killian sighed, glancing at Emma, then away before she could see. “She died.”

“I'm sorry, Killian.”

“That's not even the worst part, love.”

“What's worse than that?”

“Before Milah died, she...told me she was going back to her husband. That we'd had fun, but she was an adult and didn't have time for boys.” He spat that last bit, not realizing how bitter about it he still was.

“Ouch.” Emma leaned in and kissed his cheek. He looked at her in surprise, not expecting the tender gesture. Emma looked equally surprised, giving him a tiny shrug. “If it makes you feel better, I know you're not a boy.”

That got him to grin. “I should say not. Especially since you scream my name on a routine basis.”

Emma laughed, rolling her eyes. “You just keep pressing your luck, Jones.”

He gave her hand one final squeeze as the bartender laid their meal in front of them. “Perhaps there's a bit of a pirate in me, lass.”

“Oh yeah, you're a regular Captain Jack.”

Killian shook his head. “I prefer Hook.”

“Captain Hook? From Peter Pan? With the floppy hat and bad mustache?”

“Have you ever read the book? He's much better in the book. Your Mr. Disney really screwed that one up.”

“I'll take your word for it.”

They ate in amiable silence, pausing occasionally to talk about the food or some of the other patrons in the bar. Not many bars had kitchens. This one wasn't exactly a five star restaurant or anything remotely close, but it was decent enough. The house band—Robin Hood and his Merry Men, if you could believe that—was setting up on the small stage and Killian wondered again what the pull of this place was.

“May I ask my question now?”

Emma only hesitated for a moment. “Shoot.”

“Is there something special about this place? Seems a bit out of the way for a woman who lives in Manhattan.”

Emma took a bit of her salad, chewing thoughtfully. “I moved to New York right after college. In this little tiny apartment right around the corner from here. It took me a while to break in; I had to pound a lot of pavement, knock on a lot of doors. Did some freelance work on the web, just to get experience.” She looked around the room, remembering. “I used to come here all the time. Nurse a drink. People watch, that kind of thing.”

“I didn't think you were sentimental.”

“I'm not, I just really like the food.”

She was lying and they both knew it. But he let it go. It was the most personal information she'd confided so far. Just one tiny piece of the puzzle that was Emma Swan.

“Is this band any good?” he asked, changing the subject.

“They're okay, I guess.” They slipped back into some slightly stilted conversation, finishing their meal. Sharing their pasts, even small parts of it, clearly wasn't their strong suit. But it was a start.

They left the bar an hour later, hailing a cab. Emma had her hand on his ass, slipped into his pants pocket. He had an arm around her waist, holding her against him, gently kissing her jaw. Another makeout session at their table had got them going again, returning them to what they did best. All Killian wanted now was to get her home and under him until she screamed his name.

The cabbie honked at them, grousing about too much PDA. Emma giggled as Killian helped her into the cab. He gave the cabbie his address and turned back to Emma, who already had her hand on his thigh. He cradled her cheek and pulled her toward him, kissing her again, ignoring that they had an audience. He was just buzzed enough from the rum, that it didn't matter.

Emma leaned into him, hands sliding over the blue silk that covered his chest. “I really love this shirt,” she whispered in his ear. Her lips slid down his neck, tongue darting out to lick the hollow of his throat. “I can't wait to get you out of it.”

Killian groaned softly, wishing she could just climb into his lab and ride him into oblivion. “Soon, lass.” He tangled his hands into her golden tresses and pulled her lips back to his. He kissed her slowly, exploring every inch of her mouth. “God, I love kissing you.”

“Me too.” She went back in for more, deepening the kiss, fingers threaded through his hair. It almost felt like they were two randy teenagers, who were necking in the back of a car. But he didn't want to stop.

The cabbie cleared his throat loudly, announcing that they'd arrived. Killian broke away from her reluctantly, fishing out the right amount of cash to pay him. He threw in a healthy tip to try and make up for any awkwardness.

“Where are we?” Emma asked, stepping out of the cab.

“My place,” Killian replied, trying to be casual. They'd never come to his place before; it was always hers. But his place was closer to Enchanted than hers. “If that's alright.” The cab was leaving.

Emma chewed on her kiss swollen lip. “Yeah. It's fine,” she said at last.

Killian smiled, taking her hand to lead her upstairs. “Don't think,” he whispered in the stairwell, echoing her advice to him just before their first time. By the time they reached his door, Emma was pawing at him again, her hands sliding over his body as he tried to unlock his door. “So impatient, love.”

“Have you seen you?” Emma asked, her hands coming around his waist and sliding up his torso.

Killian bit back a groan, finally managing to turn the key. The door opened and they all but fell into his apartment. Killian kicked the door closed and hugged Emma close, not wanting her to think too hard about where she was. He wanted her focused solely on him. He brushed some of her hair back from her face, kissing her deeply, letting the passion take over.

Emma slowly relaxed in his hold, her hands yanking on his shirt, pulling it from his pants. She slid the buttons open as they kissed, each brush of her warm fingers searing his skin. There had been a few times where she simply tore his shirt, but she liked this one, the silk rubbing over her heated flesh. Killian slid his hands over her body, down the curve of her spine until he had the rounded globes of her ass in his hands. He squeezed, rocking his hips into hers, need building in his groin. “Emma.”

“Hmm?” she asked, sucking his bottom lip into her mouth, her green eyes blown wide with lust.

“We should...bedroom,” he mumbled, lips slanting over her again, unable to resist. He'd never met anyone who kissed him the way she did; it was intoxicating.

“What's...oh...wrong with here?”

He pulled back to look into her eyes. “Eventually, I want to have you on every surface in this apartment. But first I want you in my bed.”

For a brief moment, he thought she would balk, but instead she shivered. “You gonna make it worth my while?”

“Don't I always?” he asked, with a deliberate thrust of his hips.

She allowed him to lead her to the bedroom, where they were greeted by the light from the streetlight. He didn't tempt fate by turning on any of the lamps, knowing Emma preferred the lights off. There was more than enough light to see by.

“Now let me feast on you, love.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, cradling her face in his hands. He went slow, trying to memorize how she felt, how warm she was. Emma melted into him, hands clutching his shoulders, fingers in his hair. Killian slid one hand behind her back, finding the zipper to her dress and pulling it down slowly. He spread his hand over the expanse of her back, relishing the feel of bare skin.

Emma felt it too, goosebumps rising on her skin. “What is it about you touching me?” she whispered, as if to herself.

Killian dragged his nose over her neck, inhaling her unique scent. “You're so soft, so warm,” he mumbled, kissing her pulse. He gently pulled on the fabric of her dress, sliding it over her shoulders and down her body until it pooled at her feet. She stepped out of it, wearing nothing but black lace and sky high heels. His breathing hitched as he looked at her, her perfect breasts almost spilling out of her bra, the smallest scrap of lace covering her sex. “God, you are beautiful.”

She didn't respond, but he didn't expect her to. Instead, he shrugged out of his shirt and toed off his shoes and socks. Then he stepped around her taking her in, his hands dancing over her bare skin. Her eyes fluttered shut, thighs clenching as he touched her. Now that he knew how much she loved his hands on her, he intended to use that information to drive her wild. He swept some of her hair over her shoulder, moving to stand behind her, pressing his body against hers.

“So you like when I touch you?” he asked, his voice ragged and rough. His hands moved over her ribs, as he kissed along her shoulder. “Answer me, Swan.”

Her head lolled back. “God yes. Don't stop.”

He pressed harder, her breasts fitting perfectly in his hands. He kneaded them gently, groaning softly when her hands came up and tangled in his hair. She was spread for him deliciously, her lean gorgeous body there for the taking. His pants were painfully tight, cock straining against the zip but he ignored it. He pulled down the cups of her bra, thumbing the hard peaks, making her breath catch. He teased them mercilessly, twisting and pulling, her mewls of pleasure filling his ears. Emma rocked her hips back, her ass rubbing wantonly over his still clothed cock.

“Killian, please.”

“Please what?”

“I need...”

God, part of him just wanted to bend her over his bed and fuck her senseless, but he wasn't ready for what might happen after. Selfishly, he wanted to keep her in his space for as long as possible. So he slid his hand down her stomach and into her panties; to his intense pleasure, she was sopping wet. “Always so wet for me, lass,” he murmured, fingers teasing her soaked bare skin. She jerked as he touched her clit, the sensitive nub swollen and aching. “Fuck.”

“Oh, I'm going to fuck you, love,” his words dark and full of promise. “And you're going to come for me over and over again until you beg me to stop.”

“Oh my god.” Her hips rolled into his hand, trying desperately to get more friction. “Yes. Yes, I need you.” She sounded completely wrecked and needy and he hadn't even made her come yet.

He slid his fingers into her scorching heat, moving quickly, thumb rubbing her clit. Emma held on to him, bucking against him, her body free and fluid as they worked her. In moments, she was coming, crying out his name, fucking his fingers until she could barely remain upright. Killian caught her around the waist, kissing her shoulder tenderly before laying her out on his full size bed. It wasn't as big as hers, but it would do.

Killian shucked his pants and boxer briefs, gasping in relief as the pressure eased on his throbbing cock. He stroked it a few times, watching Emma, taking in how gorgeous she was like this. Then he helped her out of her underthings and shoes, leaving them both naked. He climbed in after her, hands sliding over her legs, spreading them for him. Emma watched with hooded eyes as he kissed the inside of her thighs. “Yes, please.”

Killian grinned. “As you wish.” He lapped at her, lips and tongue licking and tugging on her folds. Emma sighed in pleasure as he worked her over, sucking her clit into his mouth, teeth scraping over it. He spread her wide with his hands, expertly fucking her with his mouth, tonguing her entrance, slipping inside. Emma whimpered and moaned, fisting the pillow under her head, hips rolling into his caress. It didn't take long before she was trembling, walls fluttering, clenching around nothing as she came again, a broken cry spilling from her lips.

“Shit,” she breathed, after he brought her down from her second high. “How are you real?”

“Are Yanks not good at that, darling?” he asked, licking his lips.

Emma laughed breathlessly. “None that I've found.”

“More for me then.” He crawled up her body, rolling her on her side, spooning her. He was burning for her, wanting to be buried inside her tight sheath, but he held off. His cock settled into the crease of her ass, and he hissed at the contact, rocking forward, needing the friction. Then he twisted, reaching for the drawer on his nightstand and pulling out a condom.

“Hmm, that feels good,” Emma murmured.

“Already?” he asked, kissing the back of her neck.

“If you go slow,” she whispered back. “But I want you inside me, Killian.”

Killian groaned, forehead pressed to her shoulder while he tore at the foil and rolled on the condom. “You love the things I do to you, don't you? No one's ever made you feel like this.”

Emma inhaled sharply as he slipped inside her, her leg up over his hip. “No one,” she whispered back. “Oh god.”

It was like this that she was most vulnerable. She felt so good that her walls slipped, and he could see her most clearly. She wanted more from her life, but she was so afraid. Afraid to let him in, to trust, to believe that they could have something real. He was terrified that he was halfway in love with her, but he couldn't stop. She was the first person he'd felt anything real for since Milah. And Emma didn't even know how extraordinary she was.

Killian kept his thrusts slow and even, thankful for even that bit of her. He toyed with her breast, kissed whatever skin he could reach, scruff scratching. He could feel her need rising, her walls wetter around his thick cock. She murmured nonsense, back arching, hips rolling into his, one hand in his hair, tugging on it. “Touch yourself, Emma,” he said. “I want to feel you come.”

“Ah,” Emma sighed, her free hand moving to her clit. “God, it feels so good. You feel so good.”

“There's a good girl,” he soothed, picking up his pace just a fraction. “Make yourself feel good for me.”

“Oooooh.” Her breathing came in short pants as she pleasured herself, hips rocking, taking him deeper inside her. “Oh god.” It was softer than before, her climax, but they drew it out, her body shaking. She was so beautiful like this it made his chest ache.

Before she could come down, he pulled out, Emma whimpering at the loss. Her rolled her onto her back, spreading her legs. “I need you, Emma.” She nodded, reaching for him. He pressed at her entrance, sliding in completely, burying himself to the hilt. “So good,” he whispered, before kissing Emma breathless.

She clutched at him, hands sliding over the bare skin of his back as he took her with deep sure strokes. They were pressed chest to chest, kissing each other deeply; Killian could feel her passion all the way to his toes. She had so much to give and he was greedy enough to want her to give it to him. Her walls were tight, sensitive from her previous orgasms, and it felt so damn amazing he thought he would burst. He just couldn't get enough of her.

“Can you give me one more?” he asked, nipping her neck. “Feels so fucking good when you squeeze me.”

Emma cursed, biting her lip. “Hurry.”

He heeded her, angling his hips just right. In seconds, they came together, her walls tightening around him as he spilled himself inside her, hips going still. He knew he was probably squashing her, but he couldn't bring himself to move. They lay there panting, Killian's head buried in her neck.

When he regained some use of his limbs , Killian rolled them onto their sides (chucking the condom in the process), so they were facing each other. He both loved and dreaded this part, knowing at some point the spell would be broken and her walls would snap back into place. But she always looked so happy and sated after, and he lived for that.

“Hey,” Emma said softly, looking over at him. He could just make out her smile in the low light.

“Not tired, are you, lass?” Killian teased. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, unable to keep from touching her.

“I think I'm wiped,” she replied, stretching out just a bit. “Damn.”

“Aye. You were bloody magnificent though.” Seeing her come undone for him over and over again was by far the greatest thing he'd ever seen.

She looked away, bashful. “You're not so bad yourself, Jones.” She paused. “I should go though.”

Ah, there it was. Killian looked over her shoulder at his alarm clock. “It's late, love. You could...stay.” Was it too much to hope that their little evening out could turn into something just a bit more?

Emma frowned. “Killian...”

“I make some excellent waffles. I could make us some, then take you home in the morning. No harm, no foul, as you Yanks like to say.”

He could see her hesitate, the war in her eyes. “Okay. Waffles. But I can get back to my place on my own. I have some work to do.”

It was more than he'd ever hoped. It was a victory, albeit a small one. “Fair enough.”

Breakfast, as it turned out, was a double edged sword. As he worked, Emma wandered his apartment wearing one of his shirts. There wasn't much to see; Killian hadn't lived there long enough to truly make it feel like home. And he'd had to get some of his furnishings second hand. Nothing ratty, mind, but nothing as good as what she had. And these days, he spent almost as much time at her place as he did at his.

He heard her pad back into the kitchen. “Did you do this?” she asked, holding a framed photograph in her hand.

“Yeah. Two...no, three years ago now. I was working for a little paper in York. They seemed to like it.”

“Killian...this is extraordinary. It almost feels like I'm there.”

“I think that's more the setting than me, lass.” He knew he was good, but to hear it from her...it made him feel like a shy teenager again.

“Do you have anymore of your work here? I'd like to see it.”

Killian gestured out into the living room. “Just look around, love. Almost everything in here is something I've shot. Believe it or not, I like to shoot for fun too.” Emma elbowed him lightly in the ribs at his tease, but headed for living room all the same. “Don't be too long; the waffles are nearly done!”

He practically had to drag her back to the kitchen, but they did get to eat the waffles. Emma talked, more than he'd ever heard her before, asking him about the places he'd been, the photos he'd taken. It was the most she'd allowed him to talk about himself since he met her. It felt good; he wanted her to know about him. But when he probed about her interest, she distracted him with syrup laced kisses.

They even had sex on his kitchen table.

But then she was gone, insisting she had to work. Killian didn't argue, recognizing that he could only push her so far out of her comfort zone before she freaked. But still, a milestone had been reached. They'd gone out together in public. Emma had come to his place and stayed the night.

They were getting closer and closer to this being a real relationship. 

* * *

 

That belief was reinforced Sunday afternoon when she asked him to come over. He expected her to greet him as she usually did, with hungry kisses and wandering hands. When she didn't, he couldn't help but feel a little hurt. Had she finally decided that this—whatever it was—was over? He couldn't help it, as much as he'd tried to keep his feelings out of it...he was falling for her. Hard.

“Everything alright there, Swan?” he asked, keeping his voice even.

“Yeah, everything's fine. I just had something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Well, your phone's working, since you called.” He sat across from her at her kitchen table, where they had eaten Chinese together for their first “date.”

“This isn't a phone conversation.”

“Oh.” He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. “What's on your mind, love?”

She grinned at him. “How would you like to be in on the biggest story of the last ten years?”

He just stared at her, wide eyed. “Sorry. Could you repeat that?” All that really registered was that she didn't seem to breaking up with him, or ordering him out of her life.

“I'm asking if you'd like to work with me, Jones.”

Even that still confused him. Emma didn't like to work with anyone. She was very much a lone wolf, was famous for it, in fact. Let alone someone like him. “And just what do you think I can do for you?”

“Well, I've been working on this story for a while. Better part of a year, really. I'm really close to having everything nailed down so I can take it to David...”

“Tall blonde chap, looks like he has a mast up his ass?”

Emma laughed. “Yeah, that's him. He's a pain, but he's actually a really great editor. Don't you dare him I said that, or you won't be getting any sex for a week,” she warned.

Killian smirked at her. “Love, I think that is a bet you would lose.” She called him at least twice a week but more often it was three, if her work load allowed it.

“Keep up that smart mouth and it'll be two weeks.” Saying things like that would tend to imply a relationship, but Killian didn't call her out. One step at a time.

“You were talking about your story?”

“Yeah. Look, I know I don't normally do things like this. But this story is really important and I want it to be good.” She looked away, then back. “After seeing some of your stuff, I think...well, I think you could give me the final piece to push it over the edge.”

“So basically, you want me to be the Jimmy Olsen to your Lois Lane,” Killian said slowly.

Emma scrunched up her nose. “How do you even know Superman? You're English!”

“Swan, you do realize those films have been released around the world.”

“Ugh, whatever. Are you in or not?”

He could have waxed poetic about how she was trusting him and how much it meant to him, but he refrained. Framed like that, it would probably make her renege and they'd be back to square one. The best way to deal with her he'd found was to just...not comment. Go with the flow. He could do that. “Let's see what you've got.”

Emma looked relieved and reached for her precious laptop. She didn't show him everything, just enough to give him a general idea. He quickly got sucked into her story, instantly grasping its importance.

“Swan, if half of this is true...”

“Oh, it's all true. I've got a man on the inside. One of her Majesty's accountants who noticed that not all the numbers added up right.”

“This WS fellow?”

“How did you know?”

“I saw you answer his text the night of the party. And everything here is labeled WS.”

Emma looked stern. “That's very privileged information, Jones.”

“I can keep a secret, darling, never fear.” He'd been keeping her a secret for over two months.

“You better, or this whole thing could be blown to hell.”

“You realize she'll come after you, right? Mills Consolidated is well respected, Swan. Lots of charity work and such.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to the charities that she's stealing from. And why do you think I want you?”

“Because I'm devilishly handsome?”

Emma smacked his arm. “To get me a photo. No one can pin this guy...whoever it is that Regina's working with...down. He's a ghost. But if I can put on a face...”

“It won't just be the word of one disgruntled employee against the most respected female CEO in the country, I follow you, Swan.” It would be difficult. And take up a lot of his time, but he was confident he could do it. “How soon do you need it?”

“Time isn't an issue, really, but sooner would be better.”

“Then I've got some work to do.”

Emma shut down her laptop and locked it away. “Tomorrow. Tonight I want you all to myself.” She walked over to him and held out her hand. Killian took it and stood, trying to read what she was thinking. “Can you stay?”

“If you want me to, aye, I can stay.”

“Good.” The she leaned in and kissed him, slow and sensual, warming him all the way to his toes. If they weren't together, then she was doing a damn fine job of pretending. For now, it was enough.


	3. Chapter 3

_Who reads this garbage?_ Emma thought as she flipped through that morning's  _Post._ Seriously, getting a bead on the competition was killing some of her brain cells. Still, there  _could_ be something useful...

_Her Majesty Seen with Mystery Man,_ read the headline in the Society page. Good lord. She didn't care who Regina Mills dragged back to her Westchester high rise. The woman had a different man almost monthly, until he got sick of attending the myriad of charity balls and meetings that the most powerful female CEO in the country got roped into. The very thought made Emma sick. No, Regina Mills put on a good face to the world, a good businesswoman, philanthropist. Hell, she even took fresh baked apple pies to the damn children's hospitals.

But Emma knew the truth. That behind that gracious facade was a calculating opportunist and criminal, who embezzled funds from the very charities she was supposed to be helping. For nothing more than her own greed. It was disgusting and Emma was going to stop it.

But first she needed that photograph. Sure, she could probably take Regina down with what she had. Emma was very careful, triple checked  _everything_ , and even managed to turn one of Regina's board members against her. All that in addition to the treasure trove of information gotten for her by her contact, Will Scarlet, the accountant who'd noticed the strange transactions in the first place.

Emma was loathe to admit it, but sometimes words weren't enough. That old saying “a picture is worth a thousand words” was more true in today's world of digital media than ever before. If she could connect Regina to whomever was hiding away her stash, then she would have her. Killian's photographs paired with Emma's prose could bring down an entire corporation and rock Wall Street. The very thought made her giddy with excitement.

This story could make both their careers.

It was her one consolation over the past two weeks. Emma would never admit it out loud, but she missed him. Missed his dumb jokes. The way he'd flirt with her just to annoy her. The way he said her name. His hands on her skin. She hadn't realized just how much he'd wormed his way in until he was gone. Well, not  _gone_ gone, because they weren't together. It was just sex. Really, really,  _really_ great sex.

_But you're trusting him with this_ , a voice argued in her head.

Emma huffed under her breath, even though there was no one there to hear her. She was being ridiculous. They both knew what the score was. It was fine. She could handle it.

Emma skimmed the Regina article again (the mystery man had been seen with Her Majesty four times in the last three months, no one got a good look at him, but he sounded English) and threw the paper away. She had better things to do than keep track of Regina Mills' social life.

There was a knock on her door and David entered. “Hey Swan, you got a second?”

“Sure, what's up?”

David closed the door behind him, putting Emma instantly on alert. Her editor only closed the door when it was something serious. “I'm just gonna be blunt,” David said seriously. “How sure are you on the Mills thing?”

“Why?”

“Because you're about to get called into the boss's office and I need to know, so I can go to bat for you.”

“Have I _ever_ given you a reason to doubt my integrity?” That unfortunate situation with Neal in college notwithstanding. When David has asked her about it during her interview, she'd been honest about what happened. How her boyfriend had compromised a story they were working on together by cheating on her with their source, one of the older secretaries. How Emma hadn't known until after the story was published in the school paper, nearly ruining her reputation. Only a forceful push from her favorite professor had prevented her from getting kicked out of the program. Neal, the bastard, wasn't so lucky.

She'd stuck to one night stands ever since, focused on her career. Until Killian.

“No, which is why I'm going in there with you.”

“I can take care of myself, David.”

“But as your editor, you are my responsibility.”

“Everything is solid. You know me, I would never run with anything that wasn't legit.”

“That's all I need to know.”

True to his word, Emma got a call from Mr. Jones' assistant about five minutes later. Together, she and David trooped upstairs to see Liam Jones. Emma had a bad feeling that she couldn't quite describe. Her last meeting with Jones hadn't gone well; the man was as stubborn as his brother, but he didn't have Killian's charm. Or dark good looks. Liam Jones was fair haired and clean shaven; the only outward trait he shared with Killian was those blue eyes, which held none of Killian's warmth. Killian could make her burn with just a look.

“Ah, Miss Swan,” Liam greeted her when she entered. When he saw David, his smile faltered. “I was hoping to speak to you alone.”

“She's one of mine, sir,” David said firmly. “Whatever you have to say, you say to me.”

Liam gestured for them to sit in the cushy chairs across from his desk. “Very well. I believe it should go without saying that whatever is said does not go beyond this room.”

“Of course.”

Liam scratched nervously behind his ear. Killian did that too. Emma almost wished he were there with her, but she was a big girl, she could more than handle Liam Jones. “What's this about, Mr. Jones?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the Mills investigation.”

“What about it? I think it's solid. Just one more thing to tie it all together and we should be able to publish.”

“That, as they say, is the rub.” Liam looked her in the eye. “We're not publishing the story, Miss Swan.”

Emma was flabbergasted.  _“WHAT?”_

“There's no need to take that tone with me.”

Emma slid to the edge of her seat, face flushed with anger. “You mean to tell me that a story I've worked on for the last  _year_ is just going up in smoke? Are you insane? Or just incompetent?”

“I assure you, I am neither. There is a conflict of interest that makes it impossible for this paper to publish it.”

“A conflict of interest...” Emma wracked her brain trying to think of something. There was none that she could see. The arrangement she had with Killian didn't apply, especially since no one knew about it. She'd only met Will once in person so she was good there. “Then I'll take it somewhere else. This story _needs_ to be told, Mr. Jones. I'm the only one who can.”

“Think about what you're doing, Miss Swan. Regina Mills is a very powerful woman. She does charity work all over the city. I believe she has a good heart.” He paused, seeing Emma wasn't convinced. “What about this Will Scarlet fellow? How trustworthy is a man who has a juvenile record?”

Emma looked up sharply. “How do you know about that? More importantly, how do you know about Will? Only two people know about him, Mr. Jones.” Her editor and Killian.

_Oh god._

She'd done it again. She'd trusted someone with important,  _sensitive_ information and he'd betrayed her. It was the only explanation. Why he was nice to her. Why he kept flirting with her after she gave him the brushoff so many times. He'd seduced her, then got her to trust him so he could rat her out to his brother. 

And she'd fallen for it like a sucker.

But why? Why would Liam Jones care about her bringing down Regina Mills?  _Regina Mills has been seen with mystery man four times in the last three months._ Liam Jones had been in the country for three months. Regina had been in London shortly before that.  _I believe she has a good heart._ Spoken like he knew her personally. It wasn't enough for a jury, but her journalist's instincts told her she was right.

Liam Jones was Regina's mystery man. He was the conflict of interest.

With deadly calm, Emma looked at her boss. “How long have you been Regina's boytoy, Jones?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. If it's not true, then publish my piece. It's not that hard.”

“Now see here, young lady...” But the Englishman was going red in the face, clearly caught.

“I'll have my office packed up by the end of the day. I quit.”

It wasn't until she got to the elevator that the first tears fell. Emma angrily brushed them away, determined not to give Killian the satisfaction. But it felt like she'd been punched in the gut. How had this happened to her again?

She didn't go to her office. Instead, she went down to the floor Killian worked on. People gave her wide berth when she got off the elevator, as she was looking daggers at everyone she passed. She stalked across the floor, through the aisles of cubicles until she found Killian's. Without a word, she grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the closest empty room with a door. It was another supply closet. How appropriate.

“You lying sack of _shit_!” she hissed as she slammed the door closed.

“What the bloody hell are you on about, Swan?” Killian shot back angrily.

“You lied to me, Jones. You _spied_ on me for your scumbag of a brother!”

“I most certainly did _not!_ How can you believe such a thing?”

She ignored him. “How long have you known? Was it the whole time you were fucking me?”

“Known _what?”_ He really looked bewildered, but it was an act. Of course it was an act. Hadn't the last two months shown what a good actor he was? She'd almost believed he cared about her. What a fucking joke.

“That your brother was screwing Regina.”

“Liam did _what?”_ Killian screeched.

“I was just in his office. He gave me some song and dance about not publishing my article because of a conflict of interest. Well, the only conflict is _him_ since he's screwing her.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Don't look so surprised, Jones! When did he order you to seduce me? Right after he bought this paper probably.” She was pacing now, too furious to stand still. The calmer, more rational part of her said that she was jumping to conclusions, but she ignored it.

“Love, Liam doesn't even know about you. I haven't told him. We're not close like that anymore, and haven't been for a bloody long time.”

“You went to see him right after I did two weeks ago!”

“He asked me to _lunch,_ Swan. And yes, he asked if I was seeing anyone, but I lied to his face. You know why? _Because you asked me too._ I've done _everything_ you've asked to keep this...thing a secret, only to get accosted and accused for my trouble.”

Emma didn't let that deter her. “You and David were the only ones who knew who my source was. David would never tell anyone, so that leaves you.”

“Well, it bloody well wasn't me. Are you even listening to yourself? God, you are so high in that bloody ice palace of yours that you can't see out of it anymore, Swan. Do you _want_ to be closed off and mistrustful of the world? Do you want to believe that every man you meet is out to get you? I don't know what happened to make you this way, Swan. Whatever it is, I am bloody well sorry for it. But I am _not_ that man. Not that you even fucking _care_.” 

He pushed past her, hand on the door. Emma wanted to call him back—she wasn't done screaming at him yet—but he ignored her. “I got your photo, by the way. I believe the man you're looking for is Graham Humbert. Little good my it do you. Goodbye, Swan.”

* * *

Emma tapped hard at the keys, angrily rewriting everything she'd worked so hard for over the last year. Now that she wasn't publishing in the  _Times_ she had to make her piece more concise for publication somewhere else. She hadn't figured out where yet, but she was working on it. Chinese cartons littered her apartment, as she hadn't done anything but sleep and type since arriving home two days ago. She tried to ignore all reminders of Killian in her apartment, focusing on her work. If she looked at the empty cartons too long, then the words Killian had said to her would ring in her head and she was through with him.

There was a knock on her door, but she ignored it. She didn't have a delivery, and she didn't want to see anyone.

“Swan? I know you're in there. It's David, open up.”

“Go away, David!”

“I have the rest of your things and this box is heavy.”

Emma sighed heavily and got up. She was dressed in some old flannel pajamas, not needing anything else. She opened the door without a word.

“About time,” David huffed as he stepped inside.

“You've done your good deed now go away.”

“Emma...”

“No, I don't work for you anymore. You don't get to tell me what to do.”

“I heard about Jones, er, Killian. I'm sorry.”

“Come to lecture me, Dad?” Emma shot back sarcastically.

“No.” He headed back toward the door then stopped. “Have you considered the fact that it might not have been him?”

“Of course it was him. What kind of an idiot do you take me for?” She paused “Don't answer that.”

“Just do me a favor, okay? Look in the box, Swan. What you find might surprise you.”

Emma fully intended to ignore her former boss. She really did. But her reporter's curiosity got the best of her. She rummaged in the box, pulling out books and files and her lucky swan charm. There at the bottom was a plastic bag that she'd never seen before. Emma picked it up and looked inside.

There was a tiny audio bug nestled in the bottom. Emma didn't pick it up; it had adhesive on what seemed to be the back. Someone had bugged her office? Why? Emma felt her heart sink. Killian had never been in her office. She made sure of it; it was one of her ridiculous rules. He wouldn't have needed a bug to get information out of her; he was sleeping with her, seducing it out of her. Wasn't he?

She remembered something she learned on one of her early investigations; bugs often came with serial numbers. If she could get the serial number, she could trace it and settle the question once and for all.

Did she want that? If she was wrong about Killian...God, she'd said some terrible things to him. He probably—rightly—would never want to see her again. But she had to know. She had to know if she was right; she  _hated_ being wrong. If for nothing other than her own sanity, she needed to know.

* * *

“Are you Leroy?” Emma asked, stepping into the little electronics shop. It was in New Jersey; the friend she'd given the bug to had traced the serial number back to this place.

“Yeah, who's askin'?”

“My name's Emma Swan, I'm a reporter for...”

“I ain't done nothin' wrong, lady. I see my PO every week just like I should.”

“I'm a reporter, not a cop. I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

Leroy, a short bearded man with the requisite scruffy excon clothes, nodded warily. “Okay. You got two minutes.”

Emma pulled out her phone. “Have you ever seen this man in your store?” It was a picture of Killian that she'd taken when he was engrossed in whatever terrible movie they were watching. She'd nearly deleted it a dozen times, but couldn't quite bring herself to. She was grateful now that she hadn't.

Leroy narrowed his beady eyes at the digital photo. “Nope, never seen him before.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, alright? What'd he do?”

_It's looking more and more like nothing_ , Emma thought to herself, which made her sick. He'd done nothing but put up with her ridiculous rules and boundaries and issues solely because he seemed to like her. But she refused to think about that now. If he didn't rat her out, then she needed to know who had. “Do you keep records? I have a serial number of something that I think was sold here.”

“Sure, they're in the back.” Leroy went to get the thick binder and looked through it for the number Emma gave him. “Here it is. Says it was sold January 25th.”

Nearly two months before she even met Killian. Rats. “Is there a name?”

“Sidney Glass.”

That was it then. She'd let her emotions cloud her judgment, jumping to an uncalled for conclusion, and possibly ruining the one good thing in her life in the process. At the time, it had seemed sound. Now she just felt like shit. Sidney Glass was one of Regina's lackeys. Regina had probably been spying on her for a while; hell, the woman's relationship with Emma's former boss was probably a set up too, in order to discredit whatever Emma had uncovered.

Emma thanked Leroy and headed home. The question was, what did she do now? What did she  _want_ ? She wanted Regina's head on a plate for starters. For that, she would need her work. But what she really wanted though it terrified her to admit it...was Killian. She hadn't felt—hadn't allowed herself to feel—that way about anyone since Neal. She'd done her best to ignore it, pretend it wasn't happening. But every time she bent or flat out broke one of her rules, she let him in just a little bit more.

She'd been lost since the moment she climbed into his lap in her apartment.

Emma had let her past dictate her present and god, she regretted that now. She saw her life before Killian with starling clarity. Boring.  _Lonely._ There was nothing but her work. She didn't even have a pet, for Christ's sake. She just stayed wrapped up in her cocoon of mistrust and fear, trying not to get hurt again. And in so doing had hurt the only person who'd really tried to see her, who seemed to want her, who wasn't put off by her issues because he'd been hurt too.

She thought about it, until her head hurt. She knew the right thing to do. Go apologize to him. Even if he didn't want to have anything to do with her, she should still let him know she'd been wrong. But she was afraid, a coward. So she through herself into research, trying to find out who this Graham Humbert was.

 

* * *

 

“Emma?” came a soft feminine voice through her door. There was a sharp knock. “Are you okay?”

Emma growled in frustration; she had work to do, damn it. But she got up and opened the door. “Mary Margaret? What are you doing here?”

“I was worried about you.”

“I'm fine.”

“Those dark circles say that you're not.”

“Whatever.” She stepped back so that Mary Margaret could enter.

“David told me what happened. With Mr Jones. And...the other Mr. Jones.”

Did everyone know her business? “David has a big mouth.”

“He's worried about you, Emma.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Even the most lonely person could use a shoulder to lean on, dear.”

 Emma flopped down on her couch. “I was wrong, okay? I assumed it was Killian and I was wrong. But since he hates me now, it doesn't even matter. He's probably chatting up some intern as we speak.”

Mary Margaret sat next to her. “Emma, Killian quit the same day you did.”

“He what?” Emma sat up straighter, confused. Why would he do that?

“David said that Killian barged into his brother's office, shouted a bit, then left.”

“So he's not at the paper?” She was reaching for the closest pair of shoes she could find.

“Nope. Emma, what's going on?”

“I have to go.”

“Emma!”

“I have to _go._ I have to apologize.”

“To who?”

Emma snatched her purse off the kitchen counter. “Killian!”

She hailed a cab and gave the cabbie Killian's address. She was impressed she remembered it, considering she'd only been there once. She had no idea if he would even want to see her or let her in, but she had to try. At the very least, she had to clear her conscience and do whatever she could to make it right. He deserved that.

When she got there, Emma threw a wad of cash at the cabbie and climbed out. She raced up the stairs of Killian's building. Once she got to his door, she froze. What if he slammed it in her face? It would be no less than she deserved.  _Time to put up or shut up, Swan,_ she thought. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Leave it and go away!” Killian's irritable voice yelled.

“Killian? It's me. It's...Emma.”

There was a long silence. Then she heard some scuffling and the metallic slide of the lock. The door opened about six inches. “Come to shout at me some more, Swan?”

He looked as bad as she felt. His black hair, usually artfully rumpled, was flat and lifeless. His brilliant blue eyes that saw right through her were dull. His scruff had several extra days growth. She could feel the misery rolling off him in waves.

“No, Killian, I didn't. I actually came to apologize.”

He barked out a laugh. It sounded _wrong_. “You must really hate me, Swan.”

Emma frowned. “I don't hate you. I've never hated you.”

“Not really how it sounded the last time we spoke, love.”

“Look, I know you have no reason to believe me. Or trust me. I said some awful things to you. All I can say is that I'm sorry.” Unbidden, a tear slipped down her cheek. “I'm sorry, Killian. I lied to you and worse, I lied to myself. But I wanted you to know that I know the truth now. I should have trusted you. I wish I could take it back, but I can't. I can only apologize and ask for your forgiveness.”

He just stared at her. She was too late. Not that she blamed him at all. She'd brought this on herself. She felt her lip tremble and she turned away so he couldn't see. She'd go home, have a good cry, and try to do better, to move on. But she knew that she'd never find anyone quite like Killian again.

“Swan.”

“Yeah?” She didn't turn, afraid to see his face.

His hand wrapped around her arm, just like it had that night at the party. “Look at me, love.”

She turned around, barely managing to take a breath before he was kissing her, thick scruff scratching her chin, strong arms around her waist. She could taste the rum on his tongue. Her arms went around his neck as he lifted her off her feet. God, it felt so good to be in his arms again. “Killian...” They should talk. They should  _talk_ before things got too heated, before rational thought flew out the window. She wanted to do this right, this time.

“Later, lass,” he replied, nipping at her bottom lip. “I swear. I just need to hold you. I've missed you so.”

Emma had to blink back fresh tears as he kissed her, gently guiding her legs around his waist. It was the first time in her life that she could remember someone  _missing_ her. She could feel it in everything he did; it poured out of him like a tidal wave, just how much he had missed her. She kissed him back fiercely, committing the moment to memory.

He carried her back into his apartment, weaving through the furniture and boxes of half eaten pizza to his bedroom. It was daylight now, the middle of the afternoon with bright sunlight shining through the windows. Killian threw her onto the bed, quickly crawling in after her, covering her body with his. Emma welcomed his weight, loving the feel of him pressing her into the mattress. She clawed at his faded t-shirt, still kissing him, little mewls of pleasure filling the air. God, she had missed this, missed  _him._ With him, there was no frightened little girl, there was just Emma and she'd almost lost him.

“I'm so sorry,” she murmured, between kisses. “God, I'm so sorry, Killian.”

“Hush, love. You're here now. You're with me.” He looked down at her so tenderly it made her heart ache. He kissed the tip of her nose, the corners of her lips, her chin, the apple of each cheek. “You are so beautiful.”

God, he was going to make her lose it again; her emotions were spiraling out of control. There was only one thing she wanted right then.

“Make love to me, Killian.”

She'd never called it that before. But she knew now that's what it was. It's what it always had been. And she needed him. She needed him to help her not feel so cold and alone.

Killian looked down at her in awe, thumb brushing her cheek. “As you wish.”

He sat up and reached behind his head to pull of his t-shirt. He made quick work of his pants and boxer briefs, giving her a good view of his nude body. Then he started on her, removing her shoes, socks and sweats in short order. He kissed the arch of each foot, hands caressing her skin. Emma bit her lip as she watched him, feeling desire pool in her stomach. She loved his large strong hands on her more than she could say. He touched her with care, kneading her muscles, pads of his fingers burning her skin. His mouth followed, lips and tongue warm on her flesh; Emma squirmed under his touch, heat rolling through her.

She slid her hands over her shirt, the fabric rough on her heated skin. Killian gulped as their eyes locked and he nodded ever so slightly. Emma chewed on her lip, fingers fumbling with the buttons, baring her torso inch by inch. The pajama top lay open; Emma touched herself, hands sliding up her flat stomach, skimming the underside of her breasts, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Killian kept touching her, kissing the backside of her knee, teeth scraping the skin, his eyes never leaving her. Emma licked her lips, moaning as she finally stroked her nipples. A fresh wave of heat flushed between her thighs; the dual stimulation of their hands on her body driving her crazy.

“Don't stop,” Killian said, his voice hoarse, rough. “Love watching you, darling.”

“Oh god.” Her hips rolled of their own accord, the ache between her legs nearly unbearable. She needed him to touch her, but he continued to move slowly, nipping at the inside of her thigh before starting on her other leg. Emma brushed her palms over the hardened peaks, eyes falling closed as she got lost in the sensations. She rolled the stiff points between her fingers, pinching and twisting, waves of desire rolling through her body, burning her up.

Her hips bucked when she felt Killian's warm breath on her drenched flesh, a loud moan tumbling from her lips. “Killian...,” she said, her voice breaking with want. “Touch me. Please.”

His warm fingers slid through her folds, thumb tapping her aching swollen clit. Emma cried out, jolts shooting through her, more turned on than she could ever remember. “Do you want to come, love?”

“Yes! God, _please.”_

He shoved three fingers roughly into her slick heat, mouth latching onto her clit. Emma yelled at the abrupt intrusion, hips rolling into it automatically. His touch was rough, stretching her, fucking her hard with those long fingers. Emma keened, relishing everything about the way he made her feel. He nibbled and sucked on her clit, sending her higher and higher, until she screamed, coming hard and fast, hips bucking madly off the mattress.

Her heart pounded in her chest as Killian brought her down from her high. She whimpered at the loss of his fingers, already missing his touch. She groped for him, catching his free hand and tugging on it.

Killian chuckled. “Not satisfied, my Queen?”

Emma's eyes fluttered open, catching his smug grin. “Get up here,” she demanded.

Killian crawled up her body, lips leaving a wet trail up her stomach. He kissed her passionately, stealing what little breath she had regained. “You are so bloody glorious when you come, love.” His hands slid over her skin, his still damp fingers smearing her release over her stomach. Emma moaned softly, nails digging into his skin.

“I want you in me,” she whispered. “I need you so much.” She could feel him hot and heavy between her thighs, so, so close.

“Fuck.” Killian turned away, intent on reaching for the drawer in his nightstand. Emma pulled him back, using her body to flip them over so Killian was on his back.

“No,” she said firmly. “I want to _feel_ you inside me.” She rolled her hips, her wetness sliding over his straining cock. She was on birth control and they were both healthy. There was no reason they couldn't.

Killian let out a shaky breath. “Emma, are you _sure?”_ His hips were rocking under her, want and desire and worry warring on his face. His concern for her, his need to make sure this was what she wanted, pulled sharply on her heart. Why had she refused to see what was right in front of her?

She nodded. “I'm sure.” She rose up on her knees, fingers stroking him a few times, before she impaled herself on his long thick cock. “Oh _yes_ ,” she hissed as he filled her, the drag of him along her walls perfect.

Killian let out a strangled groan, trying desperately to keep his hips still. “Feels so fucking good,” he bit out, fingers fisting the sheets. “God, Emma.”

She was never going to want him any other way ever again. She rolled her hips, undulating in his lap, relishing the feel of him. The things he made her feel were unreal; she was warm and whole and _alive._ Emma leaned back, bracing her hands on his thighs, increasing her pace.

“That's it,” Killian said, hands sliding along her thighs. “So hot like this. Ride me, Emma. Don't stop.”

Emma bit her lip, bouncing in his lap, riding him with abandon. Killian sat up, hands on her skin, arm wrapping around her waist as she moved. His mouth latched onto one of her nipples, suckling and scraping, sending a flood of heat down to her core. Her walls grew even more slippery, letting her move faster, taking him deeper. She cried out, one hand diving into his hair, holding him to her chest as he switched from one breast to the other.

“I want you to come with me,” Killian hissed, teeth biting on her puckered flesh. “God, I need to feel you.”

“So close,” she moaned, head thrown back. Her shirt was bunched around her elbows, leaving her completely exposed to him. Her back arched, riding him hard, feeling him bottom out inside her. “Fuck!”

His free hand slipped between them, pinching her clit hard. Emma howled, pleasure ripping through her as her body convulsed. Killian cursed loudly, pulsing inside her, hips rutting shallowly, drawing out both of their climaxes until they were spent.

They collapsed against the mattress, their sweat slicked bodies soaking the sheets. Emma whimpered softly as he slipped out of her, disentangling their legs into a more comfortable position. Killian rolled her onto her side, facing away from him, so he could spoon her from behind. She could feel his breath on her shoulder, his lips brushing her skin gently, making her already racing heart stutter a bit. Such a gesture would have made her run as little as two weeks ago, but she made no protest. She was learning.

They needed to talk, but right now all she wanted was for him to hold her.

They remained like that for a long time, with Killian's arm wrapped possessively around her waist. Emma closed her eyes, unsure how to break the silence. Now that it was here, she was at a loss as to how to proceed. She'd spent so many years running from her heart, she didn't really know how to use it. Or how to express herself.

“I think I'm in love with you,” she heard Killian whisper softly. He must have thought she'd fallen asleep; it seemed unlikely he'd venture such a confession if he thought she could hear him. She inhaled sharply, waiting for the familiar panic to seize her. But it didn't.

“I know,” she replied, just as softly. She actually felt calm admitting that. How he felt had never been the problem. She'd known, even if she'd denied the knowledge to herself.

“Swan?” Killian asked, his voice trembling.

“I'm here, Killian.”

“You heard that?”

“Yeah.”

He sighed heavily, his forehead pressed against her back. “'M sorry, love. I didn't think you were awake.”

Emma caught his hand in hers. “Don't be sorry. I don't want you to walk on eggshells around me, Killian.”

“Oh. Okay.” She could tell he was confused, just as unsure about how to move forward as she was.

Emma turned in his arms, facing him. It was time they did this. She reached up and stroked his cheek affectionately, offering him a shy smile. “I'm not... _good_ at this. And I would be lying if I said I wasn't terrified. I am.”

“Love...”

“Let me finish.” She looked into those gorgeous blue eyes. “I'm tired of running. I'm tired of being _lonely._ I've felt more with you in the last few months than I have in years. And it terrifies me. But I couldn't let you go, even though I knew I should.” Emma brushed her thumb over his lips, shivering as he kissed it sweetly. “I messed up, Killian. I let what happened to me in the past hold me back. When I was in college, someone... _hurt_ me. A lot. So much that I closed myself off.”

“The birth of the Ice Queen?” Killian asked gently.

“Yeah. I thought it was better, relying on no one but myself. Then I met you. You were the only person who tried to see me, who understood.”

“Aye, I understand. Sometimes looking at you is like looking in a mirror. Giving someone the power to hurt you...it's both the greatest and worst feeling in the world. But you deserve to be loved, Swan.”

She looked away, feeling her cheeks flush. “I know I can't undo what I did. But I want to try again. To really _be_ with you. If you still want me.”

Killian smiled, melting her heart. “Did you miss the bit where I'm in love with you?”

Her cheeks burned hotter. “I didn't want to assume,” she mumbled.

Killian brushed some hair behind her ear. “As I'm fairly certain you've ruined me for all other women, I think it's a safe bet that I want you, Swan.”

“It won't be easy,” she warned. It was important she get this out. “I don't know how to be in a relationship. I'll probably yell at you, try to push you away, or...something. I don't know. I might hurt you again.”

“Never thought anything with you would be easy, darling. But you're worth it. I believe that. Relationships aren't exactly my strong suit either.”

How could he believe that when she wasn't even sure exactly what she felt for him? She knew she cared about him. She missed him when he was gone. She felt _connected_ to him in a way she'd never felt with anyone, not even Neal. But she didn't know if she loved him. She hoped she could one day. It had been so long since she'd loved someone, she didn't even remember what it felt like.

“It's okay,” Killian said, as if reading her mind. “We'll just take things slow, yeah? I'm not going anywhere.”

“I think we passed slow when we had sex in the supply closet,” Emma deadpanned.

Killian laughed. “Perhaps. If you want to...I don't know...go back? We can do that. We can do whatever you feel comfortable with.”

Emma shook her head. “If that going back thing means that I can't touch you, then that doesn't work for me,” she said emphatically. She moved closer to him, tangling their legs together. “I feel so much when I'm with you. I don't want to give that up. Is that selfish?”

Killian shook his head. “No. Truth be told, I'd probably go crazy if I couldn't have you. Nearly bloody did. You're my siren, Swan.” He trailed his hands over her bare skin, making her shiver. “I do believe I'm addicted to you.”

Emma smiled. “Good, because I'm addicted to you too.” She closed the gap and kissed him, fingers threading through his hair. She hummed happily as they deepened the kiss, Killian rolling and covering her body with his.

No, things wouldn't be easy. But for the first time in years, Emma saw a glimmer of light at the end of her dark, dark tunnel.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter on this AU. I hope you enjoy it!

**Eight months later...**

Killian knocked back his drink, slamming the glass on the table just a little too hard. Liam didn't say anything, merely refilling it before turning back to the television.

“The former CEO was taken into custody last night by the FBI,” the nasally American news reader intoned. “She is being held on a ten million dollar bond at this time.”

“Which means she'll be out by the end of business today,” Liam said bitterly.

Killian chanced a brief glance at his brother, simultaneously sympathetic and proud of him. It had taken a lot of courage to admit he'd been wrong and do what he could to bring Regina Mills to justice. After rehiring both Emma and Killian, Liam gave them full disclosure, contributing to Emma's piece with everything he knew. It was a delicate balancing act, but Killian thought it had come off rather well. After the piece ran in the  _ Times _ , the authorities had come knocking, confiscating all their evidence and interrogating nearly everyone associated with the story. The police investigation had gone on longer, but stock in Mills Consolidated took a nosedive, effectively bankrupting the company. 

Which only put a tiny dent in Regina's personal fortune, but that wasn't Killian's problem.

What he  _ was _ worried about was Liam. He watched closely as Liam watched the news reports, flipping the channel to see the same footage over and over of Regina being led away in handcuffs. Liam's expression didn't change; it was one of dejected resignation. He'd never really seen his brother look like this, but then again, he'd never really seen his brother have serious feelings for anyone before. And to have been duped the way Liam had been...Killian could sympathize. He'd felt the same after Milah passed. 

“They've mentioned Emma's piece about twenty times,” Liam observed, taking a sip of his rum.

“Aye. As well they should, since they completely bolloxed things up,” Killian said, scowling at the TV.

“Good thing she's tenacious.”

“Is that approval I hear, brother?”

Liam finally turned away from the thirtieth rehash of what they already knew. “I know you and I haven't always seen eye to eye on her...”

“Are you referring to the time you called her a worthless slag?” Killian asked, one brow raised. That fight they'd had after Emma had accosted him in the supply closet wasn't one Killian would be forgetting anytime soon. He'd never seen Liam so unreasonable; he was stubborn, of course, but that was the worst row they had ever had.

“She had just dumped you, little brother.”

“Because you had led her to believe that I had betrayed her,” Killian pointed out.

“How many times do I need to apologize for that?”

“A few more wouldn't go amiss.”

Liam chuckled dryly. “How did this happen? Both Jones boys falling head over heels for a couple of stubborn Americans?”

Killian frowned. “Is that what happened?”  _ Did you love her? _ But he didn't want to say it out loud.

“I thought I did,” Liam said, answering his unspoken question. “Guess the joke's on me, yeah?”

“She fooled a lot of people, Liam. It wasn't just you.”

“Thank God you have better taste in women than I do. The heirs might have to come from you, Killian.”

Killian fidgeted uncomfortably. His relationship with Emma was better—so much better—but there was still a lot on uncertainty. They were officially dating, but they still lived separately. He didn't even know how Emma felt about things like children and marriage, because they avoided topics like that. And when they did have rows...there had been a couple doozies. Inevitably, they would calm down and apologize and make love until they couldn't stand, but Killian wondered how long they could remain in this holding pattern of sorts.

He knew he loved her. Loved her more than anything in the world. And he would be with her no matter what, but he wanted to go home with her. He wanted to  _ not  _ live out of his sports bag four or five days a week. Most of all, he wanted to put a ring on her finger and shout that she was his from the bloody rooftops. 

Right now, he'd just settle for hearing her tell him that she loved him too.

“We'll see about that, mate,” he deflected. “But I wouldn't sell yourself short in the department.”

“Emma doesn't have a sister, right?”

“Nope. You're on your own.”

“Damn.”

Killian downed the last of his rum. “Look, I know it doesn't seem like it, but you didn't do anything wrong. You led with your heart and that's not a bad thing at all.”

Liam thought about that. “How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That Emma was it.”

Killian felt his face flush. He and Liam didn't often talk about things like this and hadn't really since their mother passed. It felt odd for his brother to be coming to him for advice. “Our first kiss,” he said quietly.

Thankfully, Liam didn't probe any further. “I still can't believe you two were together right under my nose.”

Killian did not disabuse him of that notion, even though he and Emma's relationship had been complicated back then. “What went on with us wasn't anyone's business.”

“I'm not judging you, Killian. God knows, I wasn't upfront either. We used to be close. I guess I just forgot that we...weren't anymore.”

“Perhaps we should try and rectify that.”

“I'd like that. I think Mother would too.”

Killian looked at his watch, trying to hide just how affected he was by the mention of their mother.“I should get going. Unless you need me to stay?”

“I'll be fine. I have some last minute arrangements for the party tomorrow night.”

“There won't be anything jumping out a cake, will there?”

Liam looked affronted. “I hardly think that's appropriate when your little brother has won a Pulitzer.”

“Emma won the Pulitzer, not me, you daft git.”

“Semantics. The two of you are a team now, Killian.”

At work, perhaps. They were still working on the rest.

* * *

“We should get moving, lass.”

Emma burrowed deeper into him, burying her face in his neck. She was sprawled out on top of him as they lay on her couch. A lazy afternoon watching movies on Netflix was giving way to evening and they had a party in her honor to get to.

“You're comfy. I don't want to move.”

“Love, this party is for _you._ It would be very bad form not to show up.” He stroked her hair gently, weaving the silken strands through his fingers. On any other day, he would be more than content to stay where they were and hold her, but this was important. This story had defined their lives for so long; it nearly destroyed them. But they'd gotten through it and he was proud of her. Proud of the strides she'd made, both personally and professionally. She was a very different woman from the one he'd met in the elevator over a year ago.

Emma raised her head, her lip pouting. “But what if I'd rather stay here with my very hot boyfriend?”

Killian smirked. “Don't you want to give him a glimpse of you in another ravishing dress, my love?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You see me naked all the time. What's the big?”

He thumbed the rise of her cheek. “The  _ big _ , as you so charmingly put it, is that I would then get the joy of showing you off in said dress.” He kissed her nose. “Then I could peel you out of it later.”

“Or you could have me _while_ I'm wearing it,” Emma teased, skimming her lips over his jaw.

Killian groaned softly, remembering vividly the first time he'd done that. “Swan...”

“What? Can't handle it, Jones?” She kissed down his neck, tongue licking the hollow of his throat.

“Shouldn't _I_ be the insatiable one?” Killian mumbled, feeling the first stirrings of desire in his gut. He cradled her head, eyes fluttering shut as she kissed his skin.

“I think we both do a good job at that.” She crawled back up, slanting her lips over his. He made a tiny sound of surprise, then kissed her back, tongue sweeping out to tangle with hers. Sometimes he swore he could live on her kisses.

“Do we have to?” Emma asked when they broke for air. She buried her nose against his neck, her breath warm on his skin.

“Sweetheart, if you don't start getting ready now, we'll be late.”

“It's my party, right? They can't start without us.”

“Do you _really_ want to keep everyone waiting?”

“What about you? You need to get ready too.”

“I brought my suit, just like you asked.”

“Good.” She made no attempt to move, however. “This would be so much easier if you lived here. Then everything I love would be in one place.”

Killian froze. Did she? Did she just say what he  _ thought _ she said? Dare he say anything? If he called her out, she might take it back. Would she truly be that cruel? No. He had to trust her. “Um, love...did you just imply that I should move in?”

Emma raised her head, confusion in her green eyes. “What? Oh. Yeah. I mean, if you want to.” Her brow furrowed. “I've been thinking about it for a while, but I'd understand if you didn't.” She was rambling and it was adorable.

“Emma, if there is a scenario in the pretty little head of yours that indicates I would refuse you, then please stop. Of course I'll move in.” Should he press his luck?

Emma smiled her brightest smile, stealing his breath. She kissed him, giggles tumbling from her lips. “Are you not going to ask about the other thing?”

“What other thing?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“Oh, I don't know. Maybe the part where I told you I loved you?”

Killian stopped breathing. “Do you?” He could try and be nonchalant, but he knew he'd fail. It was the thing he'd wanted most since the party so many months ago.

Emma stroked the scar on his cheek. “Yeah. I do. Sorry I didn't say it sooner.”

Killian shook his head. “Don't be sorry. Hearing you say it now is more than enough.”

“I love you, Killian Jones.”

“And I love you, Emma Swan.” He captured her lips again, the kiss starting sweet but quickly turning hungry and needy. He loved her so much and now he knew that she loved him too. Everything they'd been through had been worth it. His hand slid under her camisole stroking her warm skin. Emma moaned softly, fingers curling tighter into his shirt. She deepened their kiss, her clothed hips rocking a bit against his.

“We should...get ready,” she mumbled, sinking deeper against him as his other hand squeezed her ass.

“Aye, we should.” He kissed along her jaw until he could tease her earlobe with his lips and teeth.

“ _Oh_...shower,” she breathed. Killian ignored her, more interested in removing her clothes. Her camisole fell to the floor; Killian flipped them over on the couch, his mouth suckling on her hardening nipple. Emma keened, her back arching into him. Killian hummed happily, tongue laving over her puckered flesh. She was always so responsive, so eager for his touch.

“Killian...shower,” she said again.

“But I like it here,” he growled, biting on the swell of her breast.

“We're going to be late.”

“That wasn't a problem for you a few minutes ago.” The prospect of having her soaked and wanting in the shower did sound appealing, however.

“Maybe I just want you naked and wet.”

“Like that do you?” They'd had sex in her shower before. Several times. Very enthusiastically.

“You know all the things I like, Killian.” She reached down and grabbed his ass for emphasis. Killian rocked his hips against her core in response, grinding into her heat, making them both moan.

“Aye, I do.” He climbed off her reluctantly, pulling her with him. They half stumbled their way to the bathroom, Killian turning on the shower as soon as he could reach it. Emma was already pulling on his clothes, trying to get him naked. Killian fondled her breasts as she stripped him, lips nibbling on her throat. He wanted to mark her, to let everyone know she was his at last, but he refrained. The scratch of his stubble along her pale skin was more than enough, faint pink marks that would fade before they had to leave the sanctuary of her—no, _their—_ apartment.

“God, I love your hands on me,” Emma whispered, shoving her own yoga pants down her legs, panties and all. “Feels so good.” She stepped out of them, clutching his shoulders for support as he continued to touch her, hands sliding expertly over every place he knew would make her shiver. He'd come to know her body well in the months they'd been together, never getting tired of hearing her beg for his touch.

Killian pulled her close until their bodies were flush, her breasts pressed to his chest and his hard cock trapped between them. Emma rubbed herself against him wantonly, standing up on her toes to kiss him deeply. Killian lifted her off her feet and maneuvered them into the shower, their moans echoing in the space as the warm water hit them.

“Is that what you wanted, Swan?” Killian asked, licking at the water trickling over her skin.

Her hand slipped between them, her delicate fingers wrapping around his cock. “God, yes.” She stroked him firmly; Killian's eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a strangled moan. “Christ, love.”

She pushed him back under the spray, dousing him completely. Killian brushed the hair out of his eyes as Emma unceremoniously dropped to her knees and licked the underside of his cock. He stared at her with wide eyes as she touched him, hand and mouth teasing and tormenting his straining erection. Water pelted her back, but she ignored it, focused solely on driving him insane with want.

“Fuck,” Killian gasped, his head falling back against the slick tile, his hand in her wet hair. “So good, lass.” She licked and laved, tongue swirling around his tip, hand fondling his balls. She moved fast, then slow, and back again, over and over until he was incoherent with pleasure. Killian yelped when she finally took him into her mouth, not anticipating it. But god, she looked perfect with her pink lips wrapped around him, head bobbing over his cock. He could feel his release coiling low in his stomach, but he was determined to stop her before he came. He wanted to have her at least once before they had to leave.

Emma seemed to sense how close he was as she moved faster, relaxing her throat to take him deeper. Killian pulled gently on her hair trying to get her attention. “Emma, love...you have to stop,” he pleaded. _“Fuck.”_ When she didn't heed him, he pulled again, harder this time. “Swan, _stop_.”

Killian breathed a sigh of relief when she did, pulling back with a pout on her lips. “Why?”

“Because I need to fuck you at least once before we leave this apartment.”

Emma grinned devilishly. Then she leaned forward and bit down on a patch of skin over his hipbone. “Does that mean you're going to fuck me outside of this apartment?”

Oh, she was playing with fire now. And she knew it. “Only if you're very good, love.” He hauled her up, covering her mouth with his, nothing gentle or tender in their kiss. It was raw passion, desperately seeking an outlet. There was just something about them together that was explosive, desire simmering close to the surface.

“Turn around,” Killian ordered, breaking for air. The thick steam covered the glass doors of the shower, making it feel oppressively hot, but it didn't matter. They weren't leaving until Emma had been well and thoroughly fucked.

Emma did as he bid, facing away from him. He bent her forward, hands braced on the damp tile. Killian trailed his hands all over her slick body, his chest to her back, his hips rutting lightly against her ass. Emma bit her lip, shivering under him. “Don't stop.”

“Never.” He teased her nipples, rolling them in his fingers until she was whimpering in his arms, ass pushing back against him, desperate to be touched. Killian slid one hand down her stomach, finally touching her where she needed him most. Emma hissed in pleasure as he manipulated her clit, the nub aching and swollen.

“Yes,” Emma gasped, head falling between her outstretched arms. “Oh god yes.”

It took what little control he had left _not_ to bury himself inside her as she moaned for him. He wanted her to come first. He flicked his nail over his clit, rubbing it in hard fast circles, other hand teasing her nipple, pinching and twisting, knowing Emma often liked things a bit rough. It wasn't long before she cried out hoarsely, falling apart in his hold.

“There's a good girl,” Killian murmured. Without any other warning, he lined himself up and thrust forward, her walls still fluttering from her first orgasm. Killian grunted, head falling to her shoulder. “So bloody tight.”

Emma whimpered, her arms shaking. “God, just take me, Killian. Please.”

His own orgasm delayed too long, he did as she asked, fucking her with deep hard strokes. She loved being taken like this, loved the feel of him deep inside her, hitting the perfect spot over and over and over again. He held her by the hips, keeping her steady as he fucked her, muttering praise. The spray hit his neck and flowed over his chest and hips, the water stinging a bit as their damp skin slapped together.

“Killian!” Emma screamed as she fell over the edge again, shaking and shuddering. Killian came with a shout, her walls squeezing him so, so tight. He would never get over just how amazing she felt when they were together like this.

“Love you,” he whispered into her shoulder. “God, I love you so much.”

“Love you...too.” Killian knew he wouldn't get tired of _that_ either.

He straightened up, gently maneuvering her to the little ledge in the shower. Her knees were shaking; there was no way she would be able to hold herself up for the next few minutes. Killian knew they should probably do the other thing they came in for and actually get clean before they got dressed for the party. He washed himself first, reluctantly washing her scent off his skin. He'd regain it no doubt in a few hours time. After washing his hair, he turned to Emma.

“Can you wash yourself or would you like me to do it?”

“As much as I would like that, I think I better or we're never going to get out of here.”

“Very well, love. I'll be right outside if you need me.” He didn't want her falling or anything. Killian stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel. He dried off, surreptitiously keeping an eye on Emma. She seemed fine though. She was a tough one, his Swan.

“You know you're going to have to leave me alone at some point,” she pointed out as she accepted the towel he handed her as she stepped out of the shower.

“Why's that?”

“Because I want my dress to be a surprise.”

Killian cocked his head. “A surprise? Well, now I'm intrigued.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You're always 'intrigued',” she said, using her quote fingers.

“Can I not find my girlfriend thoroughly beguiling?”

“Girlfriend?”

Killian had a moment of panic, wondering if he'd said something wrong. That's what she was, wasn't she? In truth she was so much _more_ than that, but it was the best word he had for what they were right now. “Would you rather be something else? Other half? Lover? Soulmate?”

Emma's face softened. “No. I mean, yes. All of those are fine. I just haven't been someone's girlfriend for a long time.”

“You are so much more than that to me,” Killian said seriously. “You understand that, right?”

Emma took his hands in hers. “Yeah. It may have taken me a while, but I do understand.” She pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “This is the happiest I've ever been,” she admitted. “Sometimes when I wake up and you're not here...I panic and think that all this has been a dream or something.”

“No dream, lass. And in the future, you'll never wake up like that again because I'll be right there next to you.”

“Promise?”

“Always.” He kissed her again, letting their lips linger. “You go get ready. I'll be waiting for you.”

* * *

It took significantly less time for him to get ready than it did her. He sat stiffly on the couch waiting, watching TV, trying not to rumple his suit. This night was important for her; he didn't want to muck it up, not when they finally seemed to be on the exact same page. Killian fiddled with his tie, checked his phone, googled to see how much it would cost to move his stuff from across town. He wanted to be moved in as soon as possible. He'd either have to sell some things or put them in storage since Emma's—sorry, _their—_ apartment already had more than enough furniture. Her closet was more than adequate for their wardrobes, thankfully.

He wondered if they could display some of his work in the apartment, since Emma liked it so much.

He was so engrossed that he didn't hear the bedroom door open.

“Killian?”

He put his phone away and stood, his blue eyes popping as he took her in. “Emma. You are...”

“You don't think it's too much?”

He shook his head. “Nonsense. You look stunning, my love.” She was wearing a blue strapless ballgown, with layer upon layer of chiffon in the belled skirt. The bodice was thickly studded with silver beading, spreading out over the top layer of the skirt like shimmering stars. Her long golden hair was tied in an elegant knot on top of her head, exposing the creamy skin of her neck and shoulders.

She looked like a fairy tale princess.

The dress rustled as she moved, stepping closer to him. “Go on, love. Give us a turn.” Emma smiled at him and spun around slowly, the beading shining in the light. “The belle of the ball no doubt,” he assured her, still blown away by just how utterly beautiful she was. And that she was _his._

“No glass slippers,” Emma retorted, facing him once more. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“That just means you can't lose one. So we don't have to worry about the clock striking midnight, darling.”

“It's still funny that you know all of those movies.”

“Perhaps I'll read the original tales to you one day, love. Most of them are much darker than you would believe.”

“You just like listening to yourself talk.”

“I think _you_ like listening to me talk as well, Swan,” he said in a low seductive voice.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Ugh, stop that!” She grabbed her purse and closed the distance between them. “We should get out of here before your brother sends a search party for us.”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Killian pulled out his phone and dialed the number Liam had given him. He spoke briefly then hung up. “Limo should be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Limo?”

“Liam insisted. I don't think he wanted his star reporter showing up in a cab.”

“So what do we do until then?”

Killian grinned. “I can think of a few things.”

* * *

They wound up being only about thirty minutes late, which Killian chalked up to Emma's dress rather than their extracurricular activities. Either way, it was fine, since the party didn't seem to be in full swing yet.

Liam rented out one of the swankiest spaces in the city, sparing no expense to honor the _Times_ ' latest Pulitzer winner. Killian couldn't take his eyes off Emma as they entered arm in arm, smiling as her luminous green eyes took in the large ballroom with its gleaming floors and crystal chandeliers. There was a small platform in the back with a lectern for the speeches that would come; what Emma didn't know was that there was a hidden screen that would have a short presentation on her career at the paper. He hoped she appreciated it as the loving gesture that it was.

“I knew your brother was rich, but damn,” Emma said softly.

“I think he's overcompensating a bit, don't you?”

Emma laughed. “Hey, he's _your_ brother. You have a better chance of knowing that than I would.”

Killian tightened his hold on her. “And you will _never_ find that out, lass.”

“So possessive, Jones,” she teased, leaning in close. “I like it.”

Killian beamed at her; it wasn't that long ago that she would deny any such thing. It truly did seem like they were turning a corner. For that he was glad.

They headed into the party, chatting with various people, all of whom seemed to want to get in a good word with Emma. He could see her ears going pink under the constant praise; Killian stroked the back on her hand with his thumb, offering his support silently, knowing she wasn't used to such things. But he was immensely proud of her, even in the relatively short time he'd known her. There wasn't anyone in the world quite like Emma Swan.

“Killian! Emma!” Liam waved at them from across the room, trying to get their attention. Killian nodded in his brother's direction, then gently disentangled them from the intern that was quizzing Emma enthusiastically.

When they got there, Liam handed them both a glass of wine. “Enjoying the party?”

Emma took a grateful sip and nodded. “Yeah, but if this is what it's like to _be_ the story rather than _reporting_ the story, I think I'll keep my day job.”

“You deserve all of this, love,” Killian said firmly.

“It's not often I agree with my little brother, Emma, but in this case he's right. I've always thought most highly of you.”

“Even when I was yelling at you?” Emma asked knowingly.

Liam looked away. “Not my finest hour. But all's well that ends well, yeah?”

Emma glanced at Killian, an inscrutable look on her face. “It's been an interesting year, that's for sure.”

“Indeed it has.” Liam took another sip of his wine. “Feel free to mingle for a bit longer. I'll introduce David, who will introduce you. Then the rest of the night is yours.”

“Thank you,” Emma said sincerely.

“All I ask is that you don't let my brother drag you out of here before I can have a turn on the dance floor.”

“I can handle him, don't worry.”

“You both seem to forget that I'm standing right here,” Killian said, annoyed.

Liam laughed, clapping Killian on the shoulder, as he left to go talk to one of the paper's advertisers.

“Emma! Over here!”

They both turned; Ruby Lucas was striding over to them, her new fiancé in tow. Victor looked completely starstruck by Ruby, dressed in a stunning red dress that showed off her curvaceous figure. Killian liked Ruby, who had been Emma's only real friend for so long, even if she was a bit too brash for his taste. But he didn't have to date her, so it worked out fine. The four of them got caught up; Ruby squealing at the news that Killian was finally moving into Emma's place.

“It's about time. We moved in together, what, five months in?” Ruby turned to Victor for conformation, who nodded.

“Not everyone's trying to break the land speed record for relationships,” Emma pointed out.

“Well, when you know, you just _know_ , right?”

Killian didn't say anything; he knew things with Emma would never be quite so easy and blasé as all that. But he didn't mind. He loved her just as she was, walls and scars and all. And it made life interesting, to say the least.

* * *

“Hey, you okay?” Emma asked, much later. Speeches completed, champagne drunk, and filled with hors d'oeuvres, they were dancing slowly out in the middle of the floor. “You looked far away.”

“'M fine, love.”

Emma looked skeptical, but took him at his word. “Was the little movie thing your idea?”

Killian bit his lip. “Not as such. It's Dave you should be yelling at for that one. I merely helped him a bit.” By including a handful of more candid shots of Emma hard at work, ones she hadn't really known about.

“Who said I wanted to yell?”

Killian blinked at her. “You liked it?”

“Yeah. It was sweet.” She moved closer to him, her lips by his ear. “But I think _someone's_ been taking a few liberties with their camera.”

He could hear her grin. “Is that an invitation to take more liberties with said camera, Swan?”

Emma pulled back, a faint blush staining her cheeks. “Maybe. But I don't know what you could possibly want them for.”

“You are a very beautiful woman, darling. Only a fool wouldn't want to see that preserved for posterity.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You think you're smooth, don't you, Jones?”

“You here with me, aren't you?” He'd had to fight tooth and nail for her, but it was worth it.

“For now.” But she was smiling. She had such a wonderful smile; it could make his heart stutter.

“You'll pay for that later, Swan,” he growled, before kissing the corner of her lips.

Emma curled her hand around his neck, pulling him in for a proper kiss, surprising him. “Why wait?”

She hadn't yet had her dance with his brother, but who cared? His gorgeous Swan was looking at him like _that_ and touching him like _that_...Liam would have to get his dance some other time. Feeling mischievous, Killian took her hand and led them out of the party, fishing for his phone to call the limo to take them home.

(They didn't make it home.)

(Thank God for bloody privacy screens.)

(They made it up to Liam at their tiny housewarming party two months later.)

_FINIS_


	5. The Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Emma won the Pulitzer, Killian's planning to propose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt from my December AU project. Enjoy!

“Is he in?” Emma asked on her way past the assistant's desk. She didn't even wait for a response before barging into her boss's office. It was one of the perks of living with the boss's brother.

Liam looked up from his computer, mentally bracing himself for the hurricane that was his brother's love. “Hello, Emma.”

“Cut the crap, Jones. Why'd you take Killian off the Hood story?!”

Liam carefully kept his face neutral. “I didn't. Gold asked for our best photographer and you know as well as I do that Killian's the best.”

Emma huffed. Yeah, she knew that. Once she'd allowed herself to get to know him, Killian's talent was obvious. “I know that. That's why we're partners. Doesn't give Gold the right to steal him away from my story!”

“I know you don't like to be reminded of this, Emma, but Gold is still technically Killian's head of department. He could have his pick of jobs but he stays here. For you.”

Emma bit her lip. In the last two years, her life had been transformed. She was still the tenacious investigative reporter, uncovering the truth from under many a dirty rock. She had one Pulitzer under her belt. She worked for one of the most famous newspapers in the world. But she'd made room in her life for... _life_. Love. She came home every night, not to day old Chinese and her laptop, but to a man who loved her and thought she hung the moon. She learned how to work _and_ play, which she had to admit made her a better reporter. It helped that she and Killian collaborated on several stories since the Mills case.

They brought the best out in each other.

“The gala's one night,” Liam reminded her. “Surely you two aren't _that_ attached at the hip.”

Emma glared at him, not amused by his insinuation. “Fine. But I think we should revisit this. Soon. I think we can both agree that Killian's underappreciated by that stick in the mud.” She spun on her heel and left; she'd simply use the extra time to prepare for her next interview.

“Agreed,” Liam said quietly as she left. He had every intention of improving Killian's position at the paper, but at the moment he was following his brother's instructions. Once he was certain Emma was gone, Liam picked up his phone.

“Bit busy, Liam,” Killian said, sounding annoyed.

“I hope you've got everything under control because Emma's on the warpath.”

“Does she suspect?”

“Not as far as I can tell. You're better at reading her though.”

“That's because you're still a little afraid of her, brother,” Killian laughed.

“I bloody well am not!”

“It's okay, Liam. Not everyone can be as refined as Elsa.”

“Don't let the facade fool you; Elsa's every bit as single minded as Emma.” That was another change the past year had wrought; Liam's broken heart had been mended a lovely lass named Elsa, a minor royal from Sweden.

“Good thing for us they get along so well.”

“Indeed. _Do_ you have things under control?”

“Another hour and everything will be perfect. I hope.”

“You've been preparing this for a long time, little brother. She'd be the biggest fool in the world to get frightened now.”

“We've only discussed it once,” Killian lamented.

“Did she give you any indication that she hated the idea?”

“Well, no, but Emma prefers things at her pace.”

“It's not like you'd be getting married _today._ Taking the initiative is not a bad thing, Killian.”

“Thanks, Liam.”

“Any time. Good luck.”

Killian hung up and went to finish the rest of his preparations. He wanted the evening to go off without a hitch.

* * *

Emma read through the report for the fifth time, making sure she understood its contents thoroughly. She was supposed to be interviewing the police chief in two days for her story; she relished any chance to wipe the smarmy grin off the man's flabby face. How many times would she have to humiliate him before he took her seriously? Or before he got fired?

Her phone buzzed; it was a text from Killian.  _Busy, love?_

_Going over some things for the interview. Having fun?_ She typed back.

_Not as such. Care to spice up my evening?_

Emma rolled her eyes.  _I'm not sexting you while you're working._

It took longer than she expected to get a reply.  _An interesting idea. However, I was wondering if you'd like to join me._

Her brow furrowed. Join him? He knew how much she hated that fake socializing crap. Emma preferred their small circle of family and friends to attending any swanky party. She made exceptions when they were hosted by Liam because he was a) her boss and b) her lover's beloved brother. She enjoyed watching them repair their relationship and become close once again. Everyone needed family and Killian was hers.  _What do you need me for?_

_Love, I always need you._

She smiled.  _What did I just say about the sexting?_

_Someone's mind is in the gutter, Swan._

Emma's smiled widened; with Killian it was hard for her mind to  _not_ be in the gutter. He was very handsome, very sexy and sex had never been one of their problems.  _Fine. One date coming up. Should I stop home to change?_

_Perhaps the red one?_

Emma shivered; he loved her in her deep red gown. It was the one she'd been wearing the first time they had sex. In a broom closet. It had been so intense and erotic; she couldn't get him out of her head. She'd never really lost him since.  _Give me one hour._

She put her files away and locked them and her laptop in a drawer of her desk. Since the Mills case, she had her office swept for bugs on a regular basis and the building's security had been improved. Still she was never too careful. Office locked behind her, she headed downstairs, calling a cab. When she got to their apartment, she asked the cabbie to wait, despite the extra cost. It wouldn't take her long to change and briefly rearrange her hair. She tried to replicate her look from that fateful night, wondering if this evening could have a similar end.

She secretly hoped it would.

The cabbie drove her to Midtown; the gala was being held in a wing of the New York Public Library. Why Gold was wasting Killian's skills on taking pictures of simpering celebutants was beyond her comprehension. The Library was closed at this time of night, but they were always hosting some fundraiser or other. The guard let her through after giving her name. She followed the signs, heading to a wing of the Library she'd never seen.

Imagine her surprise that there was no one there.

She'd come expecting actors, actresses, reality stars, business people. No Trump, thank God. But there was  _no one._ She entered the room, taken aback. There was a small table to her left; she picked up the envelope labeled  _Emma._ She ripped it open and found a note in Killian's elegant hand.

_Swan,_

_I hope you can forgive my little subterfuge; I assure you it's in the name of a worthy cause. Every moment with you has been an adventure, the greatest of my life. I hope you come to see that as you walk through this space. I'll be waiting at the end._

_Ever yours,_

_Killian_

Emma felt her hand shaking a little; this was a  _Romantic Gesture_ , capital R, capital G. Their relationship was relatively low key; she preferred it that way. The grandest gesture had been her showing up at his apartment to apologize for being wrong and dumping him. Killian knew her track record with romance; it was his steadiness and heart that she loved most about him. He'd given her the precious gift of  _time_ , time to sort out her own heart, to realize how empty her life would be without him. But this? This was bigger. She could sense it.

Part of her was excited, part of her was still scared witless.

Still, she was Emma Swan, and Emma Swan did not back down from a challenge. She held the note close as she moved to her right. There was a trail of buttercup petals on the floor; her favorite. They were laid out carefully; clearly, she was meant to follow them. She did, heading through another door. The room she entered was large and there were a series of photographs on the walls, photographs Killian had taken.

The first was an enlarged version of one she found in his old apartment; it had been the first time she really noticed his work. They'd been sleeping together for weeks, but that was the first time she admitted to herself that she really liked him, even as she couched it as professional curiosity. She smiled fondly at the memory, moving to the next picture.

It was from that same date—their first in a public place—her old haunt, the Enchanted. Looking at it more closely, she realized it couldn't have been from  _that_ night. They'd been very much wrapped up in each other. However, it was important enough to Killian that he went back to photograph it. She wondered what else he'd captured.

The pictures went on; some she recognized right away. The fountain in Central Park, a goofy one of them at a work Christmas party. There was an artfully arranged array of pictures from the party Liam threw for her Pulitzer, including some from the montage Killian put together for her. That had meant a lot to her; his love for her shone through the photos. She sniffed, her fingertip lightly caressing his scruffy cheek in the picture. She wished he was there with her, just so she could hold his hand. He grounded her while opening her life to love and happiness.

Emma moved on, following the flowers, the pictures taking on a more intimate cast. Nothing too risque but they were almost all pictures she'd remained unaware of, even though she'd given him tacit permission. Photography was his passion, just as journalism was hers. There were some of her with her hair in a messy bun, a pencil in her teeth as she typed away at her computer. A few of her blissfully asleep in her favorite chair, soaking in the afternoon sun like a lazy cat. More of them together at a Yankees game. Most were in color, but there were a few in black and white; those were her favorites.

She lingered in front of a picture of she and Killian in their kitchen, covered in flour, but laughing into the camera. It was insanely domestic; they were so happy. She remembered that day vividly; he decided to bake a pumpkin pie from scratch, knowing how much Emma loved them. When she tried to help, it quickly became a disaster, but neither of them cared. It was enough that they were there together.

This was what Emma wanted for the rest of her life.

_Where are you, Killian?_ She thought. She looked at the note again; it said he was waiting for her. Her heart sped up, hoping for the first time that she was reading the signs correctly.

Emma almost breezed past the last few photos, following the trail of petals. They turned a corner, moving into yet another room. This one was softly lit, littered in candles, and Killian standing in the center looking nervous but hopeful.

“Hello, love.”

“Hey.”

“Did you like your surprise?”

She smiled, flashing the note. “Clever, Jones. Liam was in on this, I assume?”

Killian scratched behind his ear. “Aye, he lent a hand or two.”

“Remind me to apologize later for falsely accusing him.”

“I'm sure he's used to it by now, Swan.”

“Funny, Jones.”

All through their banter Emma got closer, until she was directly in his space. He grinned at her, one hand still in his pocket. “You look amazing, Emma.”

She looked him over; he was in a nice suit, clean lines, freshly pressed. “This feels a little familiar, don't you think?”

He nodded. “That was the point. All this time and you still take my breath away.”

She blushed. Her Killian was charming, but sincere. Always sincere. “I loved the photos,” she said quietly. “Thank you.”

“That's only half of your surprise.” Emma inhaled sharply as he knelt in front of her, down on one knee, a small velvet box now in his hand. Which was shaking. Mentally she cursed any time she'd been cross or short with him; she hated that he was nervous about this. “Emma Swan, would you do me the great honor of marrying me?”

Emma made sure to hold his gaze; she was trembling, not from nerves but from excitement. In that moment, there was nothing she wanted more and she needed him to know she was all in. Slowly, she nodded. “Yes.”

Killian let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, plucking the ring from the box and sliding onto her shaking finger. “Sure about this, Swan?”

She pulled him up by the hands, then dragged his lips to hers. “Very sure. You're stuck with me now, Jones.”

“Precisely where I want to be.” His arms came around her, crushing her to his chest. Emma remembered that first kiss, so long ago. Filled with heat and passion, the first time she'd chosen to take a leap. This felt similar but there was weight to it, knowledge rather than discovery. Yet for all they knew about one another, there was always more to learn. And Emma was no longer afraid of forever.

Killian's hands skimmed up her back; the dress left much of her creamy skin bare. She was warm and soft, smooth under his hands. Emma mewled a little as he stroked her skin, sliding deftly under the fabric of her dress. “Always loved this dress,” he murmured over her jaw. Emma tilted her head, giving him access to her throat. Killian didn't disappoint, his lips sliding wetly over her pulse. “Perfect.”

Emma moaned, a thrum of desire rolling down her spine. They were still technically in the library but the euphoria of the moment and his hands on her were intoxicating. She was such a sucker for his large rough hands on her body. She slipped her leg between his, clinging to his lapel for dear life. “Killian...”

“Yes?”

“This is... _Jesus_...the library.”

“So?” His thumb brushed the side of her breast; she moaned. “Perhaps I'd like to remind you how we started, lass.”

Oh god, the broom closet. He'd been the hesitant one and she'd teased him until he took her roughly against a metal rack of shelves. One of the best moments of her life, not that she could admit it then. “Don't think?” she whispered.

“Exactly.” He captured her lips in a searing kiss, hand lightly patting her bum. “Let's find somewhere a little more private.” He held her hand in his and led her through a door and down a hall; this part of the library was away from the public, offices and such it seemed. How Killian knew where to go was a mystery to her. But she was high on love and sharing an adventure with the man she loved. When Killian found a room that suited him, he ushered her inside.

It looked like a disused office. There was a desk and a chair against one wall and a metal filing cabinet on another. Killian pressed her against the door and fused his mouth to hers, swallowing her gasp of surprise. She slid her hands under his suit jacket, pulling hard on his dress shirt, freeing it from his pants. Finally, she could touch bare skin, hands gliding over his taut stomach.

“You always were a vixen,” he muttered, biting where neck met shoulder.

Emma bit at his earlobe. “I was trying to prove a point.”

“I remember.” He undid the tie behind her neck, letting the fabric fall to her waist. “Still, I think my point was made in the end.”

“And what was that?” Emma mumbled, shivering as he teased her hard nipples.

“That you wanted more than just a quick shag in a broom closet.”

Her head fell heavily against the wooden door. “What? Oh. Right.” She wet her lips and found his eyes. “There was this guy. He was really persistent.”

“Just a guy?” he asked, tracing her areola with his tongue. “Should I get my sword?”

“You don't...fuck, have a sword.”

He chuckled. “No, but it's a fun thought.” He kissed his way back up to her lips. “I knew the moment you kissed me, Swan. I wanted you, this, us.” He found her hand, kissing her left hand just above her new ring. “You've made me so very happy.”

“Are you gonna talk or fuck me?” she demanded, her question holding no real sting. She just needed him; they could save the slow tender lovemaking for their bed.

“So demanding, Swan. Fuck yes.” He thrust his hips forward, letting her know how her partial nudity affected him. Emma impatiently pushed his suit jacket off and started on the buttons of his shirt. Killian maneuvered them to the empty chair, then trapped Emma against the desk. She worked frantically on his belt and fly, her body aching for him. “Shall I bend you over this desk?” he asked, ducking to suck on her nipple. “Or let you ride me in the chair?”

“Don't care,” Emma replied, finally getting his zipper down. She reached into his pants and took him into her hand, gripping him firmly. Killian growled, hips rutting into her hand. “Hmm, like that, Jones?”

“Minx. You know I do.” He covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply. He pushed her skirt up, lifting her onto the desk. She moaned before reaching for him again.

“God, just get inside me,” she panted, splaying her thighs. _“Please.”_

“So the Ice Queen can be made to beg,” he chuckled darkly, recalling her demeanor when they first did this. “Lay back.”

Emma did, licking her lips as Killian eased her legs up. He anchored her stiletto clad feet on the edge of the desk, spreading her knees wide. Her pale skin stood out against the deep red of her dress; she was as beautiful as he had ever seen her. He shrugged off his shirt, giving her a nice view of his chest; she squirmed, getting impatient again. He rubbed his cock along her slit, coating him in her slickness. “So wet, fuck.”

Emma reached down and grabbed his wrist, guiding him to her aching hole. She groaned as he pushed forward; she loved the way they fit together. He stretched her deliciously, pushing all the way in. Her back arched. “Oh god, yes.”

Killian took her with slow shallow thrusts, just watching his cock disappear inside her lithe body. They really should be quick; anyone could happen by. But that was part of the thrill. He knew Emma shared it; he could see it in her eyes. He skimmed his hands up over her stomach, pausing to fondle her slightly bouncing breasts. Emma keened, her back arching into his touch. She pouted when he moved on, urging her arms up over her head. He was bent low over her, still slowly thrusting, staring into the green eyes he loved so much. Emma raised her head, seeking his lips. They kissed languidly, Emma hitching her legs up over his hips. Killian groaned deeply as the heels of her bloody shoes dug into him, right at the base of his spine.

“Fuck, Swan,” he muttered, hips stuttering.

“That's the point,” she replied, squeezing her inner muscles around his thickness. “And I know you can do better, Jones.”

He snarled, letting go of one of her hands and reaching for her thigh. He found her ankle and maneuvered her leg over his shoulder, pressing it back to her chest. Emma cried out, the angle hitting her perfectly. “Better now?”

“Yes!” She clawed at his back with her free hand, her body coiling tighter with every roll of his hips. “Yes!” They were being far too loud, but Emma was too far gone to care. All that mattered was Killian and the way he was fucking her.

“That's it, love,” he panted, nibbling on her earlobe. “Scream for me, let me hear you.”

Emma was helpless against the gravely possessive tone; god, she loved the way he made her feel.  _“Close,”_ she bit out, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Fuck.”

He snaked a hand between them and unerringly found her clit. He rubbed her just the way she liked, hard precise circles; she screamed her climax, trembling hard beneath him. She was still fluttering around him when he followed, stars popping behind his eyes. He rode her until he was spent, head falling to her shoulder. Emma panted hard, heart thudding against her ribs. Killian was heavy but she made no effort to move him, couldn't have even if she wanted to. She idly stroked his slick back, lips brushing his temple.

At length, he did move, collapsing into the nearby chair. He only paused long enough to pull his pants up. Emma caught her breath, then rummaged around for a tissue or something to clean herself up. She found an old box in one of the drawers; she thought it best not to examine it too closely. Once she was clean, she fixed her dress, retying the straps.

“Hmm, come 'ere, lass.”

Emma smiled at him and settled in his lap. She cupped his cheek and kissed him, purring in contentment. This was what she wouldn't allow herself in times past. A chance to bask in the afterglow. They didn't talk; they simply held each other, Killian caressing the ring on her finger. He'd dreamt of this moment so often in the two years they'd been together; he'd sometimes despair of it ever happening. But she agreed to be his wife.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Emma asked, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“You said yes.”

She frowned at him. “Was I supposed to say no?”

“Please don't take this the wrong way, but there were days I doubted this could happen.”

She leaned her head on his. “I know. I warned you it wouldn't be easy.”

“So you did.”

“But I'm glad you stayed. That we stuck it out.” She cupped his cheek and brought his lips to hers. “I love you, Killian. And I can't wait to be married to you.”

“Truly?”

“Yeah. Maybe that brother of yours will give us adjoining offices,” she teased.

“Always work with you, Swan.”

“Not always. I frequently have thoughts that are very not-work like.”

“Do tell.”

She shrugged. “Maybe on the honeymoon.”

“Think you can leave the city long enough for that?”

“Depends. Where are you taking me?”

“Anywhere you wish to go.”

“Someplace warm.” She kissed his nose. “Maybe some palm trees.” She kissed a scruffy cheek. “Definitely a beach.” Every item she mentioned was followed by a kiss until he got frustrated and found her lips. He kissed her deeply, leaving her breathless.

“Emma,” he breathed, fingers tangling in her hair. “We should go home.”

“Yeah.” They made out for a few more minutes before mustering the energy to stand. They found Killian's shirt and jacket on the floor, slightly worse for wear. Emma stifled a laugh, taking stock of the room. She almost felt sorry for whoever occupied it next; there were subtle signs of what happened. But since it wasn't her problem, she let it go. When Killian was presentable, they strode hand in hand from the room, ready for the next step in their journey together.

 


End file.
